


Pale Fire

by Kellyjelly



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bottom!Sherlock, Bullying, But still a meanie, Confessions of love, Don’t get along in the beginning, First Meeting, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Insecure Sherlock at times, John is protective, Kissing, Light Stalking, Light Touches, Loss of Virginty, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Romance, Sadness, Sherlock doesn’t know how to talk to people, Sherlock is 17, Sherlock is twinky, Sherlock secretly pining for John, Size Difference, Size Kink, Smut, Sweetness, Though he doesn’t admit it, True Love, Underage-somewhat, Virgin Sherlock, john is 25, top!John
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2019-11-14 13:25:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 29,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18053342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kellyjelly/pseuds/Kellyjelly
Summary: Since the destruction of the Holmes residence caused by Euros and the death of Euros. The Holmes family are forced to move to a small town in Rye, located East of Sussex.Sherlock moves into this town and realizes that this new life would be boring as hell.John returns from the army and moves into a small home in Rye, not expecting anything interesting to happen to him.Sherlock and John meet, now there’s a reason for them to enjoy their new homes.





	1. Invitation Only

**Author's Note:**

> This story is for LaipseJorge. 
> 
> Hopefully you like it!

Fire. Smoke. And screams. 

That’s all the boy, Sherlock Holmes had going through his brilliant mind. 

The home that once belonged to him and his family was being burned to the ground, the walls that he grew up in were clashing down to cinder and ash. 

The boy had scratches across his face, blood was pouring from the wounds that stung his pallid skin, and his frail body was trembling, obviously he was undergoing a traumatic shock. 

The cause of the fire, one word: Euros. 

Since the addition of the new baby girl to the Holmes residence, things have manifested in a feral way. 

Euros was the youngest of the family but along with her youth, it was a perfect entrance to expose the new flame of insanity that dominated her body. She hated her brother, Mycroft Holmes, despised her second brother, Sherlock Holmes, and craved the opportunity to burn her parents alive, until there was nothing but bones left. Yet she was born with a clever mind, Euros was even more brilliant than Mycroft. 

But the little girl was filled with hate, rage, and animosity. 

So, what does a little girl filled with hate do? 

Well, that’s a simple answer. She could destroy everything she hates. 

Right? 

Euros was in the library, feeling bored when she decided to go upstairs and enter Sherlock’s room. Immediately, she attacked the boy, throwing Sherlock to the floor and dragging her nails across the boy’s pale face and eliciting pained screams from the withering boy beneath her. 

Once Euros had her fun, she abandoned Sherlock’s room. 

The boy remained on the floor, crying as he managed to survive his sister’s demonic attacks. Then Sherlock managed to smell a whiff of smoke, before he could even react, his parents entered his room and picked him up. 

His mother and father held onto him as Mycroft appeared by their side, pushing each other to abandon the house that was burning. 

So, now they were all standing outside, watching their house being consumed by the orange flames. It took a while before the firefighters came and drowned the flames in water. 

The pale boy wasn’t paying attention to the words being spoken by the fireman until six words reached his ears. 

“A little’s girl body was found.” 

Sherlock faced the man and remained speechless, his sister was dead. 

Did she hate her family that much that she purposefully killed herself while witnessing the destruction of her home? 

Well, for all Holmes family knew, they couldn’t stay here, not after what happened with their daughter and home. 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
**Four Months Later**

  
  
Their house in Sussex was left behind along with the grieving experienced by the Holmes family. Mr and Mrs Holmes were still affected by the death of their daughter but Sherlock and Mycroft buried the incident into the deep recesses of their mind, not wanting to remember the event any time soon. 

Now a new home was waiting for them in Rye, which was located east of Sussex. They managed to acquire a four-bedroom terraced house on Cinque Ports Street. The house had two floors, it was painted white with the addition of bricks coloring the outside. It was a lovely house located in a safe neighborhood where other houses with similar resemblance were huddled together. 

Sherlock and Mycroft were in the back seat of the car, both looking out the window, not wanting to speak. The boy watched as the familiar area he was raised in began to disappear and the new region that held their recently bought home was being introduced. 

The drive lasted a couple of hours but finally, after centuries of being stuck inside a vehicle, they arrived at their new home. With an unexcited face, Sherlock deduced the house in front of him and sighed as he stepped out the car. 

The house seemed larger in person, it had a small trail leading to a garden in the back, a front porch with a swing, and a lastly, a black gate surrounding their home. 

The boy surveyed his surroundings, deducing everything about the neighborhood and to his disappointment, nothing interesting has ever happened here besides a cat disappearing into a tree. 

God, this new life awaiting the Holmes family would be boring as shit. 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
The change of setting was quite a shock, to go from bullets, explosions, blood, and screams to serenity, zero noise, houses everywhere, and little boutique shops appearing at every corner was not considered normal to John Watson. 

The 25-year-old man was recently sent home from the army. 

His reason for returning? 

Simple. 

A bullet through his shoulder was enough to send the man back into civilian life. 

Currently, the man was in a vehicle looking for a small home that was given to him by his recently deceased parents. Since the army pension wouldn’t suffice his needs in the busy streets of London, John decided to inhabit the cottage his parents left behind in Rye. 

John was now driving along Cinque Ports Street and he noticed that the neighborhood the cottage was in, was calm… a bit too calm for his taste but the man supposed that he needed peace in order to go back to his old self again. The young spirited man he once was, before the war began to haunt his entire existence. 

A couple of minutes later, John arrived at the cottage. It was a lovely looking cottage that was snuggly surrounded by a book shop on the left and a museum to the right. It was two floors which seemed a bit too much for John but he was in no place to whine about the size. 

Yes, this place seemed like a good place to start again. 

The only thing that annoyed John with returning to a secular life was not only the marred skin that hid beneath his shirt but the limp that he acquired due to being shot through the shoulder. It wasn’t the most sexiest thing on earth but John needed to accept that from now on, he would always have in hand his trusted cane. 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
“Why do I need school?!” 

Mrs Holmes threw her head back in exhaustion as she realized that she spent nine minutes arguing with Sherlock. “Sherly, you are a 17-year-old boy and it is still required to obtain the rest of your education which by the way, you didn’t finish back in Sussex.” 

“I’m smarter than everyone put together in this small town! I don’t need to finish my education!” The boy argued as he threw his hands up. 

“Sherlock. You need two more years of school and then you’ll be able to go to college and become someone.” 

“I am someone!” 

Mrs Holmes shook her head as she faced her husband, obviously enjoying how her husband was not participating in the argument taking place before him. “Well young man, just because I love you so much, I’m going with your father right now to enroll you in a school.” 

“What?!” Sherlock shouted. 

Mr Holmes choked on his coffee. “What?!” The older man patted his chest and gave an adorable pout to his wife. “In my defense, I still haven’t eaten my breakfast.” 

Mrs Holmes rolled her eyes. “Well, too bad! We are leaving at this moment.” She dragged her husband to the door. “Oh, and Sherly! Unpack everything from the trucks outside. Thank you!” 

Mr and Mrs Holmes left, leaving the boy alone. 

Mycroft was currently at work, so Sherlock had the whole house to himself but with nothing interesting to capture his attention, he settled for unloading all the boxes inside the trucks and acquiring all the devices he managed to salvage from the fire. 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
Jesus fucking Christ, why were there so many fucking boxes in this damn truck? 

Okay granted, their prior house was burned along with all their possessions but of course, as usual, Sherlock’s parents had a habit of buying and storing furniture in the expanded garage they had back in Sussex. The garage wasn’t burned, which is why they had an insane amount of furniture brought here. 

According to his parents, they would rather be prepared with furniture at hand than have no furniture anywhere. But fuck, the boy forgot how much junk they managed to stuff inside the garage. Sherlock looked inside the truck filled with useless possessions and sighed when he saw two more trucks parked in the driveway, containing more furniture. 

What the actual fuck? 

The boy groaned in annoyance and stepped up onto the truck and one by one, took down every box filled with shit that was worthless. God, how Sherlock was tempted to grab the box filled with dishes and throw it from the top, possibly enjoying the shattered dishes that would break easily but no, mummy would have his head on a plate. 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
John settled in nicely in his new home, he had the place furnished already so, nothing was left to do besides fixing his clothes and buying food. He sat down on his couch and wondered what he should do. 

Earlier, he met the owner of the book shop next door, it was a lovely lady named Mrs Hudson and already, they were friends. She happily welcomed him to the neighborhood and offered him a cup of tea. 

But after that, not much happened. 

John sighed and picked himself up as he went to grab his cane, maybe a walk would do him good. And besides, he needed to learn about the area he was living in, so with a deep breath, he exited his home and explored the town. 

He saw that there were many houses around, a bunch of married couples, few grocery stores, tons of shops, and small restaurants located every two blocks. John enjoyed learning about the places that surrounded his home. 

Then he went back to walking on the calm sidewalks that were filled with small cottages and houses, he passed by many homes when his eyes settled on a… boy? Teenager? Well, he looked young, so John settled for boy. 

He noticed that the boy was currently inside a truck trying to lift a box. John observed how the boy was thin, had pallid skin, and dark curls that contrasted beautifully with his pale palette. 

And… oh hello, the boy has a nice scrumptious ass that was clearly struggling against the tight trousers that encompassed his bum. 

Damn, all John needed to see was the boy’s face… wait, woah, he shook his head at the thought and paid attention to the fact that the boy was struggling to lift the box. 

John approached the boy. “Do you need help?” 

Sherlock heard a voice behind him, briefly he looked back, seeing a man standing with a cane but there wasn’t enough time to see the man’s face. 

The boy scoffed. “No. Clearly you wouldn’t be able to help me. Not with that cane in your hand.” 

“There’s no need to be rude.” 

Sherlock groaned at the weight of the box. “And who the hell said I’m supposed to be nice.” 

John rolled his eyes, god, he hated rude people. “Fine. I hope you trip and fall while you’re at it.” 

“I think you can do that faster than me.” 

Before Sherlock managed to lift the incredibly heavy box, the boy miscalculated the distance between him and the drop from the tall truck, which caused him to stumble. With the unexpected weight on his arms, Sherlock lost his balance. Without anything to hold himself, his foot slipped beneath him and he fell backwards. 

The boy let out a frightened yell, expecting a painful fall that might bruise his back terribly and the high chances of banging his head against the pavement when he felt strong arms catching him before he fell to the ground. 

Then the loud bang of the box falling to the ground caught his attention as he watched the plates escaping the box and breaking. 

John tightly held onto the scrawny boy and lifted him to his feet. “Are you alright?” 

Sherlock stood up straight and turned around to face the man who saved him. The boy looked at the man and for once, he was stumped. The man in front of him was… beautiful, obviously, he was well-built due to the strength that enveloped his skinny body. 

And, oh, his eyes were lovely, they were cobalt blue skies that put the sun to shame and… oh, hello, the blond hair that was shining in the sun was blinding him. 

Wait, what the fuck? Why was Sherlock acting this way? 

Usually, he’d deduce a person and then rule them out of his sight. But this man, well, this man was… different. 

John shook the boy. “Are you alright?” 

Sherlock snapped out of his trance and ripped himself away from the man’s strong arms. “Of course.” 

John rolled his eyes. “Be careful next time.” 

“I think I have that clear.” 

John huffed in annoyance. “Right. Just piss off the guy who helped you. I should have let you fall.” He began to walk away, god, he hated boys who were rude as shit and annoying as hell. 

“Excuse me.” Sherlock said. 

The man turned around. “Yes? Another insult up your sleeve?” 

The boy held out his hand. “Your cane?” 

John was shocked, he completely forgot about his cane and to his surprise, his leg wasn’t hurting. “Oh, thank you.” 

The man grabbed his cane and returned back to his home, feeling completely intrigued by the boy. 

Sherlock watched as the man disappeared from his sight. Shit! The boy didn’t even deduce the man, fucking hell. 

That never happened to Sherlock… never. 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
“Good luck, Sherlock!” Mr Holmes said as the boy exited the car. 

Sherlock rolled his eyes as he grabbed his backpack and waved his father goodbye. It was the first day at the new school he would attending too, with a pained sigh he entered through the doors that housed the dullest place on earth. 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
**7-8 Hours Later**

  
  
The first day at Sherlock’s new school was fucking terrible. 

Ten minutes hadn’t even passed when the boy was revealing a not so concealed affair between his English teacher and the principal, and the insults of ten students followed after. Due to uneventful reactions of students, many boys ganged up on Sherlock and beat the boy till he was pulp. 

The boy had a bleeding nose, a purple eye, a deep cut on his lower lip, a gnash across his cheek, bruises all over his body and the probability of fractured ribs. 

Oh yeah, such a great first day at school. 

Sherlock continued his normal walking pace home when a terrible coughing fit came upon him, his chest was aching painfully as he clutched onto it. He braced himself against a fence nearby and bent over as he coughed out blood and wheezed arduously when one of his ribs protested in torment. 

Once his coughing fit passed, the boy straightened himself up when he bumped into someone. 

“Bloody hell, watch it.” 

Sherlock looked up at the stranger. “Fuck off.” 

John was about to beat the shit out of the person he bumped into when he recognized the pair of familiar curls. “Ah, its you.” Then he noticed the bruises on the boy’s face. “Jesus, what happened to you?” 

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Isn’t it obvious?” 

John frowned and looked the boy over. “You know, I can fix you up. My house is not that far away.” 

Sherlock observed the man, _hm_ , why would the man stare at him with calculating eyes? _Ah, a doctor then_. Then the words spoken by the man made their way into his brain, which caused the boy to scrutinize the man, trying to see if there were any malicious acts behind his request of taking the boy to his house. But Sherlock couldn’t find a reason why not. 

“I suppose.” 

John smiled as he led the way. “Come on.” 

The boy followed the man but his body was screaming in exhaustion, since he was beaten badly, he could barely hold himself up as he walked. John seemed to sense that the boy was struggling to keep up with him so he tentatively wrapped his arm around the boy’s body, pressing the boy tightly to his side as he helped the boy walk. 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
Sherlock was sitting at the kitchen table, his coat was removed and placed on the chair close by. All the boy had on was his bloodied dress shirt. 

John busied himself with getting the first aid kit and proceeded to heal the boy as best as he could. He cleaned the boy’s wounds and placed bandages on the ones that would be at risk of getting an infection. 

Sherlock and John were quiet for the most part but the boy took the opportunity to size up the man and deduce all the information pertaining to the blond stranger. 

“Afghanistan or Iraq?” 

John stopped dabbing the boy’s cut lip and stared at him. “What? How did you know that?” 

Sherlock smirked. “I didn't know, I saw. Your haircut, the way you hold yourself, says military. But the way your concern changed when you looked me over clearly states that you’re a doctor, and since you were in the army, you served as an army doctor. Obvious. Your face is tanned, but no tan above the wrists: you've been abroad but not sunbathing. The limp's really bad when you walk, but yesterday you walked perfectly well when you turned away from me like you've completely forgotten about it, so it's at least partly psychosomatic. That says the original circumstances of the injury were probably traumatic: wounded in action, then. Wounded in action, suntan: Afghanistan or Iraq.” 

John remained speechless, he simply stared at the boy in awe. 

Sherlock sensed that he hit a nerve, so the boy braced himself for the upcoming punch that would most likely break his nose. 

“That was… amazing.” 

Sherlock was stumped… again. “Really?” 

“Yes. That was brilliant! How on earth did you do that?” 

“Well, they’re deductions. I observe people and pick up the given information they offer me and I simply see their whole life story.” 

John chuckled. “That’s fantastic!” 

“That’s not what people usually say.” 

“What do people usually say?” 

“Piss off.” 

The man chuckled once again and his laughter was so contagious that the boy couldn’t help but laugh along. 

“I’m John Watson.” The man said as he offered the boy his hand. 

Sherlock shook the man’s hand. “I’m Sherlock Holmes.”


	2. Crush

Once the two shook hands, John returned to tending the boy’s wounds. The man noticed that Sherlock kept flinching whenever his rough fingers brushed across the boy’s ribs. 

John frowned at the reaction. “Are your ribs hurt?” 

Sherlock winced when the man reached out to feel the boy’s ribs. “Maybe.” 

John rolled his eyes. “Let me check.” 

Before the man touched Sherlock, he firmly stated. “Remove your shirt.” 

The boy’s eyes widened a bit at the military voice escaping John’s mouth, fuck that’s sexy. Well, it seems Sherlock just acquired a kink for military men. 

The boy complied with the doctor’s orders and unbuttoned the blood-stained dress shirt, slowly his nimble fingers released the buttons from its confines and exposed his pale skin. The creamy palette that was unveiled to John’s eyes, the man could do nothing else but observe the unblemished skin. John could almost feel the boy’s smooth skin against his calloused hands, the slender torso that deserved to be marked and claimed. 

The pink nipples that became erect due to the breeze that swept through the man’s house, goosebumps erupting all over Sherlock’s skin. John could only imagine how his compact body would feel against the boy’s frail one, he could easily dominate Sherlock and oh, how that would be a pretty sight. 

Oh dear. 

John could feel all the blood in his body heading south, prompting his limp cock to revive in interest. 

Shit. 

The man became unbearably hot, so he removed his leather jacket. He threw the piece of clothing towards the couch and proceeded to take off his shirt. John was only left with a white tank top that hugged his muscles perfectly. 

The boy observed the exposed tanned skin and fucking hell. Sherlock took in the man’s beefy biceps. The muscles hidden beneath the golden kissed skin was rippling into beautiful dips and curves whenever John flexed his biceps. The doctor’s massive muscles could put any man into shame, sure the boy knew that John was strong but not a fucking Roman god with a body that left everyone salivating. 

Then Sherlock noticed the veins that appeared whenever the man revealed his forearms. They were so pleasing to the eye, the boy has witnessed men forcing their bodies to become buff and at one point, it became ridiculous and exaggerating, veins popping out disgustingly. But John… he managed to pull off that look incredibly well. 

The man just looked naturally built and fuck, this new sight of John was making Sherlock fidgety. The boy did the calculations in his head and his entire face was not even half of John’s biceps, those thick and ripped biceps would destroy Sherlock. And then the man’s shoulders… where to even begin. Those golden shoulders were wide, firm flesh only resided there and the boy was sure that his entire hand wouldn’t be able to close around John’s shoulders. 

Then Sherlock’s lagoon eyes landed on John’s chest and holy damn, the man’s pecs were full. They were probably bigger than two Sherlocks put together. Dear god, this man was so deceiving, hiding that luscious body from the world. Well, better for the boy, that will assure him that no one else will see John’s body the way he does. 

Sherlock’s eyes dared to continue down the man’s body and against the tight fabric, he could see sharp abdomens that were well kept and strong. And if he squinted a bit, the boy could see the faint silhouette of a V-line disappearing into John’s navel. 

Sherlock felt intimated by John’s obviously fit form. 

The boy felt self conscious as his eyes traveled down his scrawny pallid body, he noticed how skinny and thin he was. He was considered a twig compared to the beast of a man that stood before him. But Sherlock was always reminded of his frail form, children would always point out how disgusting his bony body was and how it was sickly sight for everyone. 

The boy would usually ignore the contemptible comments and walk away but somewhere inside his heart, the words hurt… just a bit. Now that the nasty insults were swirling inside his head, Sherlock wanted cover his body, wrap his thin arms around himself, fearing that John would consider him a ill sight but the boy forced himself to not do that. 

How would covering his body help John proceed with examining him? 

Sherlock remained seated, waiting for the man to get on with it. 

John faced the semi-nude boy and his eyes never stopped roaming over Sherlock’s torso but the only detail ruining the moment were the colorful bruises spreading all over the boy’s skin. 

The man approached Sherlock. “Lift your arms a bit, if it hurts then keep them down. And try to relax.” 

The boy followed the doctor’s orders and felt himself becoming even more intimated when John crowded his personal space. Sherlock could almost taste the man’s sun kissed skin against his tongue and the heat radiating from John was melting against his lips. 

John cautiously pressed his fingertips against the boy’s ribs and Sherlock hissed in pain as his pale hands flew to the man’s shoulders. 

Jesus fuck. 

The muscles underneath the boy’s hands were firm, it felt like a solid brick that couldn’t be broken, his entire hand barely covered half of John’s shoulder. 

John tried his best to not moan and close his eyes as he felt Sherlock’s hands on his skin, he could tell that the boy wasn’t physically strong and that increased the man’s desire to pin Sherlock down onto the table and hear the boy moan against the strong hold that John would definitely place on him. 

John looked up at Sherlock, erasing those thoughts from his mind. “Sorry.” 

The doctor traced his fingers over the boy’s ribs until he came to a conclusion. “Well, luckily your ribs aren’t broken. But they are heavily bruised.” John grabbed Sherlock’s shirt, “Sit tight while I wash this shirt for you. Then I’ll come back to bandage you up.” 

“That’s not necessary.” 

“Its fine.” 

The doctor disappeared, leaving the boy shirtless. In a few minutes, John came back and bandaged Sherlock’s injured ribs. Once the process was finished, the man offered the boy one of his shirts. “Here. You can put this on for the time being.” 

Sherlock accepted the overly too big shirt and slipped it on his lanky form. “Thank you.” 

The shirt was loose everywhere, his scrawny body failed to fill in the gaps of the shirt but the boy appreciated the small gesture, and tried his best not to stuff his nose against the fabric which heavily smelt of pine. 

In a short period of time, Sherlock’s shirt was free of blood stains. The piece of clothing was clean and dry. The boy didn’t want to return John’s shirt but apparently, the norms specify that returning one’s borrowed items or in this case, clothes were considered polite. 

Sherlock slipped on his shirt which fit perfectly on his slim torso and shrugged on his coat as he faced the doctor. Knowing that normally, one would thank their host. “Thank you. For everything.” 

The man smiled. “No problem. Just take it easy with your ribs and ice your bruises whenever you can.” 

The boy rolled his eyes. “Yes, Doctor.” 

“Do you want me to walk you home?” 

“No, that’s fine. I can still walk.” 

John eyed Sherlock before winking at the boy. “Well… till then Sherlock.” 

Sherlock felt himself blushing. “Till then.” 

He quickly left the man’s house, his heart was beating so fast that once he reached the next corner, he hunched over and took deep breaths, exhaling loudly while clutching onto his chest. 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
Sherlock crossed the doorway and entered his home. 

“Sherly!” Mrs Holmes emerged from the kitchen. “How was — oh my goodness! What happened?!” She cupped the boy’s face. 

Sherlock swatted his mother’s hands away from his face. “Nothing.” 

“What happened?!” Mrs Holmes demanded. 

The boy walked away. “Nothing mummy! Leave me alone!” 

Sherlock stomped his way to his room, slamming the door behind him and throwing his backpack onto the floor. The boy flung himself onto the bed as his eyes concentrated on the ceiling above him, his thoughts revolving around one person: John Watson. 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
The next morning, Sherlock was forced to wear a peach/pink button-down shirt. Apparently, his mother ranted about the heat being unbearable today and the boy should change his style for once. So, they both agreed that Sherlock would wear the shirt but he would wear his usual trousers. 

The boy was careful with slipping the shirt on, his ribs still ached a bit. Once Sherlock fixed his entire outfit, he looked at himself and shook his head. He hated this color and he looked ridiculous but to avoid arguing with his mother, he went along with it. 

Though the boy never understood how delicious he looked wearing that shirt. His pale features stood out and his curls were boldly emphasized. Sherlock looked like sex on a stick and this particular look could drive a certain doctor crazy. 

The boy said his goodbyes to his family and headed to school, waiting to face another day of hell. 

How fun. 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
Sherlock managed to survive the day without jumping out of a window, classes were a long stretch and the boredom consuming his brain was eating him alive. 

The boy still didn’t make any friends, well… never having friends was perfectly fine with him, besides why would he converse with idiots when his company was much preferred. But if one does not have friends, then they had enemies and Sherlock acquired a handful of enemies. 

The boy was closing his locker when he was intercepted by a group of boys. 

“Where you off too freak?” 

Sherlock knew these boys, they consisted of three idiots; Jim Moriarty, Sebastian Moran, and Phillip Anderson. 

“Are you so ignorant that you can’t see where I’m heading off too? Well, to pursue your curiosity away, I’m heading home. Now, if you’ll excuse me, your idiotic bodies are blocking my way.” Sherlock tried to shove his way through the group of boys but Jim pushed him back. 

“Hey boys, is it me or does it sound like our posh little boy wants to have fun?” Jim cockily raised his eyebrow. 

Jim eyed his friends who were next to him and gave them a pointed look, Moran and Anderson approached the boy by the sides and held Sherlock. Jim made a dramatic entrance for himself when his fist came in contact with the boy’s cheek. The repeated blows came all at once, leaving Sherlock dripping with blood and fighting against the hold that was preventing him from leaving. 

Jim shook his hand, smiling at the bloody knuckles on his hand as he grabbed the boy’s chin. “You think you can walk in here and insult all of us without getting your arse beaten?” 

Sherlock spat into Jim’s face, splattering blood all over his features. “Its not my fault you idiots have so many flaws that its up to me to reveal them.” 

Jim licked his lips. “Ya know boys, there’s a lake not far from here. Let’s see if our little freak here can still talk while he’s at the bottom of it.” 

Sherlock squirmed against the tight grip but Moran and Anderson didn’t let him go. 

“Clearly, you’re not dressed properly.” Jim went for Sherlock’s trousers. “Let’s slip these off and remove your shirt so you can freeze to death! I hear the water is below zero degrees.” 

Sherlock used his long legs to kick the boy in front of him but alone, he can’t fight three boys who were stronger than him. Jim managed to remove the boy’s trousers and with a single tug, he ripped Sherlock’s trousers in half and flung them aside, leaving the boy in his briefs. 

Before Jim could rip off the boy’s shirt, a teacher saw what they were doing to Sherlock and shouted at them, making the boys flee and throwing Sherlock towards the marble floor. 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
Sherlock was currently in the nurse’s office; his cuts were being treated and his bruises were being iced. After the boy was patched up, it was alright for him to leave but before Sherlock could depart the nurse’s office, the nurse offered the boy a pair of shorts, pitying Sherlock for not having extra clothes with him. 

The boy eyed the small shorts, immediately he wanted to reject the offering but Sherlock didn’t want to be embarrassed when leaving the school and having everyone see him in his briefs. 

The boy accepted the shorts and went to change before heading home. Obviously, the shorts he slipped on were way too tight and ended halfway on his pale thighs. His bum was evident, the voluptuous curve of his ass was accentuated by the white shorts and many men eyed Sherlock, clearly wanting to take a bite out of his meaty buttocks. 

The boy made himself smaller and tried to make himself invisible but having on a pink shirt and white shorts weren’t exactly clothing colors that begged to be ignored, which made Sherlock’s task of being invisible almost impossible. 

Embarrassed, bruised, and angry, the boy resisted from crying. 

Sherlock didn’t have time to cry or show sentiment, god how annoying, he just hated everything and everyone right now. 

The boy came to the corner where the street to his house was going to turn up, when he stopped. The street he was walking on branched out into two different routes. One route led to his home and the other led to John’s house. Sherlock eyed the road to his house and he honestly didn’t want to deal with his mother’s shouts at this time. 

Sherlock did crave to see the man again… well, he did have to time to go see him. The boy made up his mind and went the other way, already becoming excited to see John. 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
Sherlock arrived at John’s house and rung the bell, waiting patiently for the man to open the door. But the door never opened, the boy looked around and there wasn’t anything entailing that John wasn’t home. 

Was it something he did? Did John have no desire to see him again? Was he disgusted by Sherlock’s pathetic self? Did Sherlock say something that offended the man? 

The boy tried to think back to yesterday and went over every second he spent with John and couldn’t find any reason why John would avoid him. Sherlock felt his excitement diminish, had he honestly ruined everything? 

Before the boy proceeded to leave, Mrs Hudson appeared from her door. She had a bag in hand when she saw the pale boy standing at John’s front door. 

“Hello dearie.” 

Sherlock faced the older woman. “Hello.” 

“Are you waiting for John?” 

The boy nodded. “Yes.” 

“Oh dearie, he’s in the back. You see, these three buildings share the same backyard. He’s in the back-chopping wood. I had a dozen of logs in the back and I needed someone to chop them up. See, it would be helpful to have logs for when winter comes our way.” Mrs Hudson went back to her door. “You can go through my house.” 

The boy followed the older lady. “Oh, I don’t want to pry.” 

“Nonsense. Just go through there and you’ll find him.” 

Sherlock looked inside the woman’s house. “Thank you.” 

“No problem, dearie.” 

The boy entered the woman’s house and maneuvered his way to the backyard where from afar he could see John chopping wood. Sherlock came closer and his heart stopped at the image in front of him almost causing him have a heart attack… almost. 

John was wearing dark jeans and a light grey tank top that clung onto his sweaty body, blotches of sweat darkened his back as rivers of perspiration trickled all over him. Today was such a bloody hot day but the man offered to help his neighbor sort out the problem with ‘too many logs’ and besides, it gave the doctor something to do. 

John wiped a hand across his forehead and decided to remove his tank top, leaving him completely bare. 

The boy’s mouth opened as he saw the man taking off the soaked tank top that was tenaciously sticking onto his torso. Sherlock observed the wide back muscles that belonged to John, it was as if the boy was looking at a masterpiece. The boy’s throat became dry as he watched the curves belonging to John’s muscles shifting whenever he moved. 

Then he noticed the streams of sweat dripping down the man’s skin and for fucking sake, how can something like a man sweating be sexy? The doctor was ridiculous, his back could be three Sherlocks put together and probably that wouldn’t be enough to accurately describe the man’s body. 

The boy composed his horny self together and approached John. “Hello.” 

The man stopped his actions in mid air, his hands were holding onto the axe. He turned around to face the voice behind him. “Oh.” John squinted against the sun. “Sherlock.” 

John turned around and showed off his muscular chest to Sherlock. The boy felt himself drooling at the man’s body. 

Jesus. 

Sherlock would like nothing more than to run his hands up and down John’s chest; feeling him, touching him, and tasting the man’s skin. Then his eyes landed on the scar that decorated the man’s shoulder. It was an evident mark left behind by the bullet that pierced John’s skin. The marred scar was beautiful and the boy wanted to feel the uneven star shaped skin beneath his fingers. 

The doctor noticed the fresh bruises on the boy’s face. “What happened?” 

Sherlock shrugged his shoulders. “The usual.” 

John threw the axe on the ground and came up to the boy, lifting Sherlock’s chin to inspect the damage. “Are you not popular in school?” 

The boy chuckled nervously as once again, the man crowded his personal space. “Not exactly.” 

John frowned, he wanted to choke whoever did this to Sherlock. “Next time, let me have a go at those fuckers.” 

The boy snorted. “I doubt they’ll allow an adult to beat up a group of boys.” 

“You’d be surprised.” 

John’s eyes shifted from Sherlock’s bruises and landed on the boy’s lagoon eyes. God, this boy was so beautiful, in all of the man’s life, John has never encountered a gorgeous creature like Sherlock. He wanted to protect the boy, keep him safe from those who wanted to hurt him, and always be around Sherlock. 

The man rested his palm against the boy’s bruised cheek and dragged his thumb across Sherlock’s wounded lip. The boy felt his breath hitching as he felt the intimate contact between the man and him. 

They stayed like this for a while, staring at each other and not moving. John realized what he was doing and pulled himself away. Sherlock wanted to scream at the man to come back, to touch him again, but the boy stayed quiet. 

The man cleared his throat. “Nice shorts.” 

Sherlock cocked his head to the side, staring at John in confusion. “Sorry?” 

“I meant, I didn’t think someone like you wore shorts.” 

The boy looked down at himself, oh, he forgot that his trousers were torn in half back at school. “They’re not mine.” 

John looked at Sherlock’s thin pale legs and fuck… he could already imagine those legs that went on forever, wrapped around his waist. The doctor could hear the moans that he could emit from the boy’s plump lips and oof… his hands could easily grab the boy’s ankles and pull Sherlock towards him. 

Fuck. 

John needed to get his shit together and stop these inappropriate thoughts that plagued his mind. 

The man shrugged. “So, why are you here?” 

“I wanted to see you.” 

John’s eyes widened. “Oh. Do you need me to look over your wounds?” 

“If you want too. Though I prefer to spend more time with you.” 

The man smiled. “Are you seducing me Sherlock Holmes?” 

The boy quirked a small smile. “Is it working?” 

“Perhaps.” John pointed towards his house. “Shall we go in?” 

“Let’s.”


	3. Take My Heart And Don’t Break It… Please

The heat was unbearable as Sherlock followed John back to his house. Due to the boy being dehydrated, hungry, badly beaten, and exhausted, Sherlock finally realized how tired his body was. As if his body read his thoughts, the boy’s frail body collapsed beneath his feet, stumbling to the ground. 

John was ahead when he heard the light grunt behind him. He saw Sherlock falling to the ground. 

Immediately, the man ran back to get the boy. “Here, I’ll carry you.” 

Sherlock waved John away. “No, I’m fine I can —“ 

The boy was cut short as the man lifted Sherlock’s body onto his strong sweaty arms. 

John held the boy bridal style and frowned when he noticed how lightweight Sherlock was. Due to the boy being so small and weightless, John felt a surge of protectiveness running through his veins as he caressed Sherlock towards his chest. His large arms were wide enough to cover the boy’s entire side, which John used to his advantage to shield the boy from anything that dared to hurt him. 

With Sherlock being so close to his chest, John looked down at the boy and smiled. “I insist.” 

Sherlock blushed at the man’s words and lowered his head, hiding away the red blush creeping onto his cheeks. The boy used his peripheral vision to study John’s pectorals and goodness, they were so thick that Sherlock resisted the urge to cup and squeeze the sculpted flesh. 

John entered the house and placed the boy on the couch. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.” 

Sherlock made himself comfortable on the couch, unconsciously tracing his nimble fingers over his pink/peach shirt. Memorizing the heat of John’s body against his skin and moistening his fingers with the man’s sweat that inked through his shirt. 

John returned to the living room with the first aid kit in hand while toweling his bare chest, removing the glistening drops of sweat that covered his muscular torso. He left the first aid kit on the couch next to the boy while he popped into the kitchen for a minute. 

The man returned with a glass of water and a piece of pie. “You need food and liquid inside you.” 

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Digesting slows me down.” 

“And are you in a hurry to go somewhere?” 

The boy smiled as he reached for the cup of water and pie. Sherlock took tiny bites of the pecan pie offered to him as he observed John preparing the material he needed from the first aid kit. 

The man faced the boy. “Can you take off your shirt please?” 

Sherlock took a gulp of his water before he placed the cup and plate down on the table before him. The boy winced as the pain in his ribs rippled throughout his feeble body, lengthening the pain to the point where Sherlock had to pause for a minute before proceeding to remove his shirt. 

John couldn’t bear to see the boy suffer, he felt his chest tightening as he witnessed Sherlock struggling with the pain. 

The man placed his hand over the boy’s, preventing Sherlock from removing his shirt. “Let me.” 

John reached forward, his rough fingers approaching the button on the boy’s shirt. But before he unbuttoned Sherlock’s shirt, he looked up at the boy. “Can I?” 

Sherlock rested his hands at either side of his thighs and shyly nodded. 

John began to unbutton the boy’s shirt, the sweet pale flesh hidden beneath was coming into view. The man gulped down his salvia as the skin he once laid eyes upon, returned into his grasp. Sherlock resembled the holy likeness of an angel and John felt that his golden rugged hands would sully the purity that ran through the boy’s existence. 

But oh, how nice it would be, for John to ruin that innocence that flowed through Sherlock’s body. 

The boy masked his nervousness very well; his face was unmoved, emotionless but inside his palpitating chest, Sherlock was suffering from nine heart attacks that failed to actually damage his heart. Oh look, another heart attack taking place inside his chest, how wonderful. The boy has never let anyone touch him like this, granted John wasn’t fully touching his skin but the man was sensually undressing him. 

That could be defined as one person touching another, couldn’t it? 

The action was so intimate that Sherlock wasn’t sure how to react. 

John managed to unbutton the boy’s shirt completely, he slipped his rough hands under the fabric, touching Sherlock’s bony shoulders as he languidly removed the fabric from the boy’s shoulders. Sherlock shivered as he felt John’s large hands on his skin, the man’s warm touch made the boy hungry for more. 

He wanted more of John, Sherlock wanted more of the ever-coming touches that made his skin quiver with desire, the boy wanted the man’s caresses to slip inside his pores and stay embedded in his skin. 

The shirt slipped off easily, pooling around Sherlock’s sides. 

John ghosted his fingers over the fresh bruises that blossomed over the boy’s skin. Sherlock noticed how the man’s entire hand covered his small chest. The boy was always fascinated by John’s enormity. If the man wanted too, he could be mean and bully Sherlock to the point where he could snap the boy in two and leave Sherlock broken. 

But no, John was the opposite of that. He was sweet, gentle, caring and sympathetic. 

John lovingly stroked the bruised skin, heavily wishing that he could strangle the boys who did this. Then as if an electric shock went through his body, he realized how inappropriate his actions were and his senses snapped back into place. He prayed that the boy wasn’t uncomfortable with the way he’s been touching him. The man pulled away and concentrated on healing Sherlock’s wounds… once again. 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
John successfully patched up Sherlock, he added specific creams to the boy’s bruises and lathered up the boy’s ribs with a patch of cream that reduced the pain Sherlock felt whenever the boy moved. Once he finished that, John wrapped up the boy’s ribs with white bandages and gently patted Sherlock’s shoulder. 

Sherlock was sitting on the couch, finishing the pie on his plate. The boy remained shirtless for the time being, he managed to grow comfortable around the man and the embarrassment of showing his skinny torso to John had dissipated. John returned from disposing the bloodied cloths he used to clean the boy’s wounds. 

“I’m going to go shower.” 

Sherlock looked up at the man and placed his plate down. “I can leave —“ 

John held his hands in front of him, preventing the boy from leaving. “No!” The man cleared his throat as he rubbed the back of his neck, flustered at the way he shouted. “I mean, no don’t leave. Its just a quick shower… to clean away the sweat. Stay here, I like your company.” 

Sherlock coyly smiled as he resumed to eating. “Alright.” 

“I’ll be back.” 

After 15 minutes, John emerged from the shower, wet and semi-nude. His blond hair was tousled and sticking to his forehead, droplets of water clinging to his body. He crossed the hallway to reach his room. 

Sherlock was currently eyeing John’s belongings when he heard the water clicking off and the upcoming footsteps on the wooden floor. He turned around and caught a glimpse of the man removing the towel from his waist. The boy blushed furiously as he saw the slightest hint of John’s ass and oof, the man has muscular buttocks. 

Sherlock busied himself deducing John’s house while fanning himself, trying his best to get rid of the red colored tint that took over his cheeks. 

The man emerged from the bedroom, wearing a hunter green T-shirt and jeans. The outfit was so simple but to the boy, John looked so hot. The man’s muscles were emphasized flawlessly, the bulging flesh standing out nicely thanks to the perfect shade of green. 

John couldn’t help but notice how lovely Sherlock looked, his ashen body bare to his eyes and his skin seemed to brighten even more with the small white shorts hugging the boy’s thighs. And of course, the man couldn’t help but check out Sherlock’s ass, it looked so voluptuous in those shorts and oof, John wouldn’t mind groping that ass every morning. 

The man smiled as he came to sit on the couch, he patted the empty spot next to him. “Come here.” 

The boy scratched his elbow as he came to sit next to John. They both remained quiet for a bit, not really knowing what to say to each other until Sherlock read John’s body language. 

The boy faced the man. “You have questions.” 

John laughed. “Am I that obvious?” 

“A bit.” 

The man eyed Sherlock before speaking. “Why do you let them hurt you this way?” 

“Who?” 

“The bullies at school. Why do you let them beat you?” 

The boy looked away. “Why should I defend myself?” 

“Because someone as smart as you shouldn’t be taken advantage of.” 

“The people at school are vile. They are idiots. And they only beat me up because I’m smarter than them.” 

John frowned. “Is that the only reason why?” 

“Yes.” 

“Sherlock, you’re brilliant. You’re probably the most amazing person I’ve ever met throughout this entire town. Someone like you doesn’t deserve to be beaten on.” 

Sherlock snorted. “Tell that to the people who beat me up.” 

“Sherlock —“ 

“I don’t need your pity, John.” The boy stood up, pacing. “I didn’t ask to come here. I was forced to join this small boring town.” 

“Why were you forced?” 

Sherlock bit the inside of his cheek. “A family incident.” 

John remained seated. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

“Talk about what? How my youngest sister bullied me my entire life and how she hated her family so much that she set fire to our home and killed herself. Is that what you want to talk about?!” 

The walls that the boy built for himself were slowly crumbling down and exposing his vulnerable self. “For years, my sister always hurt me. It was just for fun according to her. But I thought it was a phase she was going through, where the youngest wanted to bully their older sibling, but no. She hated me so much that she hurt me whenever she could. And it was no different at the school I was in before. Everyday, a group of people would corner me and beat me till I couldn’t feel my body.” 

The man felt his heart clenching, seeing how a beautiful boy like Sherlock was mistreated his entire life. 

“People call me a freak.” The boy felt the commencement of tears welling inside his eyes. “They call me these horrible names just because I can deduce others when no one else can. I can see things that many can’t. And I’m good at it. I’m really good at it but instead, people hate me when I expose my talent.” 

Sherlock stood in place as he bounced on his heels, biting his lower lip as he let the first tear glide down his cheek. “And you would think that if you see someone being hurt then you’d help them from being bruised… but no. No one lifted a finger to help me. Everyone would just watch the way I would bleed and the sound of their laughter would ring through my ears. They had control… they had the power to inflict pain upon me. No — no one helped me. Which is why I don’t have friends. I’d rather be alone.” 

The boy wiped away the tears from his face. “But at times, I wish I had friends. I wish I could be normal to just — to simply fit in with everyone. Its like there’s this line that I have to cross to join in, in order to become likable. But then I would think to myself, why on earth would I want to be like everyone else? I’m brilliant! Why would I want to surround myself with idiots who lack a brain?!” 

John wanted to get up and hold Sherlock but he didn’t want to approach the boy and have Sherlock lash out at him. “Sherlock.” 

The boy faced John. “Why can’t people just think? Why can’t people simply be kind? Why can’t people be brilliant just like I am?” 

“Sherlock, those people will never understand how precious you are.” 

Sherlock faced the man in anger, breathing loudly as he tried to control his tears. “What would you know? You don’t even know me. You say that now because in situations like these, one must lie to comfort the person who’s hurting. I don’t need lies from you! Everyone is cruel and mean, so why can’t I be the same?! But when I’m mean and cruel, everyone gangs up on me and hurts me!” 

John couldn’t stand this anymore. He got up and cupped the boy’s face, forcing Sherlock to look down into his eyes. “You listen to me Sherlock Holmes. Don’t you dare assume that everyone in this world is cruel because if you do, then you’re classifying me as a monster. Have I hurt you these days? Have I ever insulted you to the point where I could have you experiencing a breakdown? Have I ever bullied you just because you’re different?” 

The boy’s lips were trembling as more tears sprinted from eyes. “No.” He whispered. 

“Exactly. Sherlock… yes, I don’t know you well enough. But so far, I know that you’re brilliant, witty, smart, beautiful, and unique. You managed to deduce my whole life. You instantly knew about my army and doctor history. No one could deduce human beings the way you do. And those bullies at school are too blind to see how perfect you are. Your deduction skills are one of a kind and to be honest, I wouldn’t want you to be like everyone else.” 

John came closer to Sherlock. “If you were like everyone else, then that spark inside you wouldn’t shine the way it does now. If you ask me, I wouldn’t change a damn thing about you. People are always afraid of something different and they usually decide to push that difference away by hurting it and stomping down the bright light that defines it. Fuck those people at school. You don’t need any of them to make you feel like you’re nothing.” 

The boy felt his heart melting into globs of goo as the words escaping John’s mouth made him feel warm. “Then who would I have?” Sherlock asked brokenly. 

The man smiled as he wiped away the boy’s tears. “You can have me. I know I’m not as brilliant as you. If any other word could describe me it would be boring.” 

Sherlock chuckled as he sniffled. “You’re not boring, John. You’re anything but boring.” 

“Well, that makes me happy.” John sadly looked at the boy. “You’re more than all those idiots surrounding you. And all the hurt you’ve lived through is not fair but if you want, I could take that pain away from you. So, that you don’t suffer by yourself. I’m guessing you’re not used to people being nice to you but… trust me. That’s all I ask.” 

Sherlock lowered his head. “Can you hold me?” 

“Of course.” 

The doctor reached down and grabbed the boy’s thighs, prompting Sherlock to wrap his pale legs around John’s torso. The man maneuvered himself to the couch and pressed the boy against his strong chest. John wrapped his firm biceps around Sherlock’s fragile body, wishing that he could absorb the ache that was poisoning the boy. Sherlock rested his legs at either side of the man’s hips as his skinny arms crawled under John’s armpits. 

The boy’s hands rested on the man’s shoulders, gripping John as hard as he could, never wanting to release the man. Sherlock gently smooshed his face into John’s shoulder, mimicking the actions of a cat who was very fond of their owner. The boy rubbed his face against the man’s shirt, purposefully caressing the marred skin beneath the fabric that illuminated the scar left by the bullet wound that pierced John’s flesh. 

The man could feel the fabric of his shirt dampening with tears but he couldn’t care less. John rubbed Sherlock’s back, giving all the comfort he had to the boy. Brushing his fingers over the bare skin and feeling the boy’s smooth skin erupting into goosebumps. John firmly embraced Sherlock, taking in every ounce of the boy’s vulnerability and keeping Sherlock safe in his arms. 

Sherlock sniffled loudly. “Why don’t people like me?” 

“Because they will never understand how your uniqueness is rare and beautiful. And if they can’t understand that, then they are not worthy of your attention.” 

The boy smiled sadly as he buried his face in the crook of John’s neck, weeping woefully. 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
Sherlock cried for many hours but John didn’t leave the boy’s side. He held Sherlock until the boy’s lachrymose form died down to the point where Sherlock cried himself to sleep. The man could pinpoint the exact moment when he felt the boy falling into a deep sleep. The scrawny grip that Sherlock managed to deliver to John’s shoulders became faint, a few moments ago the boy’s chest kept rising and falling due to the erratic tears escaping the boy’s eyes. 

Now his body was slumped against the man’s muscular chest and his breathing became even. 

John moved his head a bit to look down at the boy and his eyes were laid upon Sherlock’s beautiful image. The boy looked like an angel… a damaged angel that needed protection and love. The doctor has sacrificed many things in his life but rarely did he offer a piece of himself to anyone. 

Of course, he fought for his country and saved many lives but… he was required to do that. A definition that followed after his job title. But those he managed to save, never really offered anything in return besides gratitude. Which John took with every ounce of happiness but he was okay with giving and receiving nothing in return. 

But for the first time in his life, he didn’t know why, but for Sherlock, he was willing to sacrifice everything he had for the boy. John was willing to give up his own life in exchange for an opportunity to offer Sherlock a better vitality. The man was willing to rip out his own veins in exchange for the boy to experience happiness. 

John would do anything for Sherlock. 

But for once, he did want more than just gratitude. This time, he wanted the boy to reciprocate the same feelings towards him. 

It didn’t matter if John had to face every evil in this world to protect Sherlock, he didn’t care about going through hell and back while receiving deep scars that cut through his flesh. He’s lived through war, he’s seen death, he’s encountered death. His safety was no longer a requirement to himself. 

But he was willing to suffer every ounce of pain for Sherlock… just as long as the boy was willing to want him back. 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
“Where is he?!” Mrs Holmes shouted. 

“How am I supposed to know mummy!” Mycroft shouted at his mother. 

“Shush! Both of you! The telly is on! My favorite program is playing!” Mr Holmes said to his wife and son. 

Mrs Holmes placed her hands on her hips as she turned off the television and smacked her husband’s shoulder. “How can you sit there and not worry about your son?!” 

“Sherlock is a brilliant boy! And I trust that he’s perfectly safe and in good hands! Besides, this town is incredibly safe, what could happen to him?!” 

Mrs Holmes faced Mycroft. “Text him.” 

“I did! And he won’t answer me.” 

Mrs Holmes was about to scream her head off when the doorbell rang. She faced her husband and son. “Who could that be?” 

The blonde woman went to the front door and opened it. 

“Oh my god!” Mrs Holmes clutched her chest. “What happened?!” 

John was at the doorstep, carrying Sherlock in his arms, bridal style. “Mrs Holmes?” 

“Yes, that’s me, what happened to my baby!” 

The man tightly held onto the boy as he noticed two men approaching Mrs Holmes from behind. “Your son is fine. He’s asleep. We haven’t met before but I just moved into this town as well. I met your son a couple of days ago. My name is John Watson.” 

Mr Holmes came forward. “Hello John. Its nice to meet you. Are you Sherlock’s friend?” 

“I guess you can say that.” 

“Well, by all means come in.” Mr Holmes pushed Mycroft aside, making room for the man to enter the house. 

John came in, keeping the boy close to his chest and being as quiet as possible. He faced the Holmes family. “Where’s his room?” 

“Oh.” Mr Holmes pointed upstairs. “Up the stairs, two doors to your right.” 

“Thank you.” 

Mrs Holmes eyed the man. “He looks rather… old to be Sherlock’s friend. How come Sherly never mentioned him?” 

Mycroft already didn’t like John. “Perhaps he’s involved with this man.” 

“How so?” Mr Holmes questioned. 

“Can’t you both see that this John cares for Sherlock.” 

Mr Holmes shrugged his shoulders. “I like him. A perfect gentleman if you ask me.” 

“Nobody asked you darling.” Mrs Holmes said. 

“I’m ignoring both of you.” Mr Holmes left his wife and son and returned to enjoying his show. 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
John located Sherlock’s room and opened the door, carefully maneuvering himself to not hit the boy’s body against the doorway. With great success, he managed to step inside Sherlock’s room and took a moment to eye the boy’s belongings. He noticed that Sherlock was a neat yet messy person, odd experiments were everywhere but the boy’s desk was sternly organized. 

From seeing this room, John would definitely believe that Sherlock was a mad scientist. 

The man approached the boy’s bed and softly laid Sherlock’s sleeping body onto the silky mattress. He tucked the boy in and brushed aside Sherlock’s curls as he delivered a benevolent kiss to the boy’s forehead. John quietly retreated back towards the door and exited the room, closing the door behind him and going downstairs. 

“What is your connection with my brother?” 

The man jumped at the sudden voice next to him, John hadn’t reached the bottom of the stairs when already this man was scrutinizing him. “I’m sorry.” 

“Are you pressuring Sherlock to be with you? Are you taking advantage of my brother just because he’s a minor?” Mycroft pressed on. 

John lifted his hands in the air, showing that he meant no harm. “I swear, I’m not taking advantage of your brother.” 

“I suggest you tread carefully; these waters can be dangerous.” 

“Is that a threat?” 

Mycroft smirked. “Of course, it is.” 

“Well, no offense, but you’re not frightening to me and to be honest, it’s a bit embarrassing that a man of your position has to threaten an ex army soldier.” 

Mycroft was about to speak when Mr Holmes appeared. “You’re a soldier?” 

“And a doctor.” John proudly stated. 

“You must be the young man who helped tend to Sherlock’s wounds. He gets bullied at school and the other day, he came back completely bandaged up.” 

John smiled. “Yes, I took the liberty of cleaning his wounds and making sure that he’s alright.” 

“Well, by all means, it’s wonderful to meet you.” Mr Holmes shook John’s hand. “Darling!” He shouted towards the kitchen.” This is the young chap who helped Sherlock! Remember when Sherly had his wounds healed!” 

Mrs Holmes came to join everyone. “You helped him?” 

John shook his head. “Yes, I couldn’t leave him unattended and since I am a doctor, I figured he needed someone to help him heal.” 

Mrs Holmes smiled brightly as she came forward and hugged John. “Oh, thank you! You have no idea how grateful I am for you. You see, we just recently moved and Sherlock has been going through a rough patch and school hasn’t been helping. At least he has you.” 

“Well, I’m here if he ever needs anything.” John smiled. 

Mycroft sneered at his parents for easily liking John but remained quiet as he eyed the man. Keeping his deductions to himself and readying himself to confront his little brother tomorrow. 

“Would you like to stay for a cup of a tea? I’m making pie, if you would like some.” Mrs Holmes happily offered. 

John kindly rejected the offer. “That’s very sweet of you but it’s already late. I should go home.” 

“Oh, what a shame!” Mrs Holmes pouted. “If you ever become bored or need company, you are welcome to visit us. We would really love to hear how Sherlock met you.” 

“Of course, you are welcome here any time.” Mr Holmes chimed in. 

John shook Mr and Mrs Holmes hand. “Thank you. I’ll be back sooner than you think. “The man stepped aside. “I should probably let myself out.” 

“Nonsense, Mycroft will see you out.” Mrs Holmes eyed Mycroft, giving him a harsh look. “Be kind to the man and walk him to the door.” 

Mycroft clenched his jaw and rolled his eyes. “This way.” 

John followed Mycroft to the door, waving goodbye to Mr and Mrs Holmes before facing Mycroft. “Thank you for seeing me out.” 

Mycroft stood tall. “Don’t ever come back. Sherlock has zero friends and the addition of your existence does not correlate with Sherlock’s status of having no friends. You are older than him and I will not allow my younger brother to consort with older men.” 

John smirked as he took a step back. “I admire your concern but if I remember correctly, its Sherlock’s decision to determine whether he wants to see me or not. So, you can’t really prevent me from seeing Sherlock.” 

“I’m warning you Mr Watson, stay away from my brother.” 

John smiled a toothy grin. “We’ll be seeing each other more than you would like. Good night.” 

Mycroft slammed the door closed and went to argue with his parents, demanding that John Watson stay away from Sherlock and if possible, keep the boy locked in his room to prevent Sherlock from encountering John. But to Mycroft’s disappointment, his parents disagreed with his requests and supported the idea of having the boy sharing more time with the handsome soldier/doctor.


	4. If You Give Me Your Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s Mystrade hehe!

Sherlock stirred in his bed, his body unconsciously seeking out John’s warmth, the boy’s hands were itching with the desire to feel the man’s strong muscles beneath his pliant fingers. Yet Sherlock’s hands came upon empty, wait… things felt wrong. The boy felt the sturdiness of a familiar mattress encompassing his feeble body. 

Sherlock’s eyes flew open, he immediately sat up when he groaned in pain, apparently his ribs still protested in agony. The boy realized that he was in his room, he was disappointed to learn that John’s muscular body wasn’t next to Sherlock’s smaller one. The boy was also disappointed to learn that his morning didn’t consist of the man’s golden kissed skin. 

Everything belonging to John was absent from him. 

Sherlock looked around his room and deduced what happened. He looked down at his body and the clothes from yesterday were nicely placed over his form. The boy blushed, oh darn his stupid brain for making him sleep and completely missing the moment when John dressed him. Ugh, he missed how the man must have gently touched him with his rough hands. 

Sherlock’s happy thoughts were interrupted by the door to his room being opened. 

Mycroft entered the room. “Good morning, brother mine. Let’s skip the chit chat and head into business. Whose John Watson and why did he bring you home last night?” 

The boy looked down at his clothes again, oh I want John touching me again. “Isn’t it too early for you to be up? Right about now, you should be eating a box of donuts.” 

“Who is he, Sherlock?!” 

“You saw him last night. I would think that someone like yourself would’ve had the intelligence to deduce the man who brought me home.” 

Mycroft sneered. “He cares for you.” 

Sherlock felt the ripples of a blush spreading across his pale cheeks. “That’s what friends do, don’t they? Care for each other.” 

“Oh god, you do care for him, don’t you?” 

The boy threw back the woolen duvet from his body. “That’s a ridiculous question. He’s my friend and its my problem whether I care for him or not.” 

Mycroft rolled his eyes. “Why is he older? Is he using you for his sexual pleasures? Is he manipulating you to be his? Is he abusing you in any way or form?” 

Sherlock felt completely offended, how dare his brother accuse John of such indecency. His soldier was gentle, sweet, handsome, and above all, a gentleman. The boy felt the last strings of his patience snapping in two as he jumped out of his bed and came to stand before Mycroft. If anything, John was Sherlock’s white knight. 

“Why is everything considered inappropriate to you?! John Watson is my friend and he hasn’t taken advantage of me in any way that is correlated to carnal urges. He respects me and takes care of me when I need it. And he’s the only bloody person in this small town that I consider interesting! I like being with him!” 

Mycroft narrowed his eyes. “Careful brother mine, instead of chasing butterflies you’ll end up falling inside the belly of the beast.” 

The boy lifted his eyebrow. “Lucky for you, I always hated chasing butterflies.” 

Mycroft glared at his baby brother before he went towards the door. “By the way, mummy and father approve of your soldier.” 

“What?” 

Mycroft left before Mrs Holmes entered Sherlock’s room. “Sherly! Good morning darling!” 

“Sherlock!” Mr Holmes entered the boy’s room as well. “Why have you been keeping Mr Doctor Soldier Watson from us?” 

Sherlock honestly preferred to have died in his sleep and never woken up or simply slip into a coma during his sleep. Anything than to deal with his parents’ babbling about their clear approval of John Watson. 

“I’m sorry?” The boy questioned. 

“He’s such a nice young man. He’s so strong, he carried you home and tucked you into bed. Such a sweet boy!” Mrs Holmes basically squealed out. 

“And handsome!” Mr Holmes chirped in. “Are we to expect a happy announcement by the end of the week?” 

Sherlock felt his face flushing in embarrassment, my god, the horror of John meeting the boy’s parents was a nightmare. Oh god, the man was forced to see Sherlock’s room, he was obligated to take the boy home in his arms, and he could only imagine how awkward this situation must have been for John. Oh shit, Sherlock realized that he basically scared off the man of his fucking dreams. 

The boy busied himself, pretending to look for a set of new clothes to change into. “I have school.” 

“Since when do you care about arriving to school on time?” Mrs Holmes asked. 

“Since now.” Sherlock said as he picked a pair of trousers from his chair. 

“Oh, he’s shy.” Mr Holmes assured his wife. “Sherly, don’t be shy. You can tell us what’s going on between you and Mr Watson.” 

“When is he coming back?!” Mrs Holmes basically yelled out. 

The boy pushed mummy and father towards the door. “Goodbye now.” 

“Oh Sherly!” Mrs Holmes whined. “Tell us more about him!” 

Sherlock managed to push his parents through the threshold and into the hallway. “Go away now!” 

The boy closed the door and locked it, smiling widely as he closed his eyes and imagined how John held him, caressing his small body as Sherlock’s frail hands roamed over the man’s well-built chest. 

Oof. 

But then the realization of how uncomfortable John must have been during the entire time creeped into his head. Oh god, now he wouldn’t have the guts to see John again; not after the man has seen the boy’s room and how childish it must have seemed to John. And he definitely couldn’t face the man after the forced meeting between his parents and brother. 

Sherlock went to the bathroom and cleaned himself up for another boring day at school which probably involved more bruises and broken bones. 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
John woke up bright and early, throwing on gray sweats and a sweater for a morning run when he clumsily bumped into someone. 

“I’m so sorry.” John said. 

“No, you’re fine.” The stranger eyed John. “Oh, I’ve never seen you here before. Did you just move in?” 

“Yeah, just recently moved in.” 

“Oh, well, welcome to Rye.” The stranger extended his hand. “I’m Greg Lestrade.” 

John shook Greg’s hand. “John Watson.” 

Greg smiled. “Nice to meet you, John. Sorry but I gotta run.” 

John totally understood but his eyes managed to catch a glimpse of a badge. “Wait, are you a cop?” 

“Detective Inspector, actually.” 

“Can you help me with something?” 

Greg shook his head. “Sure, you can come with me. I’m a bit late for work but I don’t have much to do.” 

“Sure, why not.” 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
“That’s where you’ll find it. This town is known for producing honey and the only place where you could see bees in their hives are here.” Greg pointed on the computer. 

John nodded as he took in the information, already forming a route for Sherlock and him to take. “Thanks. I hope this surprises someone I care for.” 

The D.I. wiggled his eyebrows. “A special lady of yours likes bees?” 

John chuckled. “Not exactly. I caught a glimpse of books in his room and I figured he must like bees.” 

“Oh! It’s a he. Lucky you.” 

“Its not like that.” John said in between chuckles. “I don’t think he does romance or delves in relationships. Besides, he’s still a minor.” 

Greg became skeptical for a second. “You’re not a…” 

John clearly read the horror on Greg’s face. “Oh god no. No! I’m not a sexual predator or a pervert or anything like that. He’s just a boy in need of a friend.” 

“Well, I was never one to judge others but since I am a detective, I just had to ask out of professional obligation. You know age is just a number, right?” 

“It is but I wouldn’t take advantage of him. And besides, his brother hates me.” 

Greg became curious. “Who’s his brother?” 

“Mycroft Holmes.” 

“Oof, he sounds intimidating.” 

John agreed. “You have no idea.” 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
Greg bid farewell to John and wished the man good luck with his friend/crush. The D.I. remained in his office for a couple of hours before he decided to go down the street and grab a few sweets. Greg entered the bakery and greeted the baker, Mike Stamford, who was currently in the back finishing his pies and putting in a few cakes in the oven. 

Mike asked Greg to give him a second and the D.I. happily waited for his friend to finish his duties while he looked at the wide selection of sweets before him. The door to the bakery opened, a pretty chime rang throughout the bakery. Audible footsteps were heard on the floor as a man came to stand by Greg’s side. 

The stranger stood a few feet away from the D.I. and Greg couldn’t help the spark of curiosity running through his veins. 

The D.I. faced his left and saw a man eyeing the section that held the donuts. Greg had to admit that the man next to him was handsome, he was taller than him by a couple of inches and the stranger was dressed in a beautiful three-piece suit. The stranger also had ginger hair, a weakness that made the D.I. vulnerable. 

Greg nonchalantly took a few steps towards the man. “If I were you, I’d go for the bombolone.” 

Mycroft looked up at the irritating and rude man who was bothering him and… oh, well hello there. “Is that a wise choice?” 

“Of course, you can trust my word. Inside there’s a delicious vanilla cream that leaves your mouth wanting more.” 

Mycroft smiled; I’d like to see how you would taste Mr…? “Is the bombolone your go-to choice?” 

“Its one of my favorites but usually I always get the marble frosted donut.” Greg pointed to a donut which was covered in white glaze and had stripes of chocolate covering it. 

“An interesting choice.” 

“This may sound cliché but I’ve never seen you before.” Greg eyed the handsome man, god I’d love to have you on top of me. 

Mycroft smiled. “I recently moved here.” 

“Ah, figures. Well, its nice to see new faces. Especially yours.” 

Mycroft felt his ears becoming red. “Well, I’m pleased to have stumbled upon an attractive man such as yourself.” 

Greg felt himself blushing when Mike approached the D.I. “Here you go, Greg. Your order as always.” 

“Thanks Mike.” Greg faced the stranger. “I hope to see you around.” 

The D.I. bid farewell to his friend and left the bakery, looking inside the shop one last time before he went back to work. Mycroft hadn’t abandoned his view from the window when he heard, Mike, clearing his throat. 

Mycroft faced the chubby man and was surprised to see a huge smile on Mike’s face. “His name is Greg Lestrade. He’s a detective inspector and he works just around the corner. The only police station around here. And he’s single.” 

Mycroft, of course, had deduced all that information before hand but appreciated the assurance from Mike. But he was especially grateful that the chubby man gave Mycroft the man’s name and oh, how Mycroft was ready to see the D.I. again. 

“What can I get for you?” Mike asked, knowing that in about a week, his friend Greg was going to get laid. 

“Can I get the bombolone and the marble frosted donut please.” 

The chubby man smirked. “Of course.” 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
Sherlock managed to escape the house before his parents questioned him about his soldier again. The boy rolled his eyes as he threw his backpack over his shoulders and headed to school. Sherlock didn’t want to go to school, instead he wanted to head towards John’s house and beg for forgiveness, he wanted to apologize on behalf of his odd parents. 

But oh, the boy couldn’t bear to see the man’s face without drowning himself in embarrassment. No, Sherlock would go to school and that’s that. 

No surprises what so ever. 

John was driving down the road when he saw a familiar boy up ahead. 

He slowed down the car and rolled down his window. “Taxi for Sherlock Holmes.” 

Sherlock stopped his walk and couldn’t help the blossom of a smile appearing on his lips, only one person had that voice and only one person would offer him a ride. 

The boy faced the car next to him and smiled at the man. “I didn’t order a taxi.” 

“Doesn’t mean you don’t need one. Where you going?” 

Sherlock pointed ahead. “Obviously to school.” 

John made a thinking face. “How about you ditch school and spend the day with me?” 

The boy blushed as he looked down at his shoes. “Where would we go?” 

“It’s a surprise.” 

“I can’t miss school.” 

John opened the passenger door. “Oh please, we both know you don’t care about missing school. Come on, live a little. Where’s your sense of adventure?” 

Sherlock fidgeted in place. “So, you’re not angry?” 

“About what?” 

The boy rolled his eyes. “About the spectacle my parents made yesterday, especially my brother.” 

John snorted. “I find your parents adorable and your brother is… interesting.” 

“That’s a nice way to describe Mycroft.” 

“Best believe he asked me to stay away from you but, how can I?” 

Sherlock giggled shyly as he looked up at the road ahead. 

The man licked his lips. “So, are you coming with me?” 

The boy faced John. “That’s an obvious question with an obvious answer.” 

“Then get in.” 

Sherlock giggled excitedly as he entered John’s car, throwing his backpack in the back seat as he happily wondered where the man would take him. 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
It took Sherlock and John two hours of driving in order to arrive at their destination. The boy kept offering deductions as to where they would end up but the man kept quiet, enjoying Sherlock bouncing in desperation. The boy wanted to know where they were going but of course, John was giving him nothing and there were not enough clues for him to expose the man’s surprise. 

After their long drive, they arrived at their awaited destination. 

“Welcome to Camber Sands.” John happily said. 

Sherlock eyed the beautiful sandy beach before them, the water reflected the color of the sky, a baby blue hue that shined in sparkles. The sand was beautifully colored, it ranged from different shades of light brown to white sand. Tall beige grass surrounded the entire beach and a light breeze swept past them. And to John’s pleasure, there was no one here. 

The boy faced the man with pure affection in his eyes, never did anyone take the time to take Sherlock anywhere. Sure, he travelled a bit with his parents but never did he recall enjoying himself for Mycroft always pestered him or Euros would bully him. But for once, he was going to spend his day with someone who cared for him. 

John smiled as they exited the car, the man breathed in the sea breeze and faced the boy. Sherlock’s curls were billowing against the wind, his skin breaking into an ocean of goosebumps. 

“Do you like it?” The man asked. 

The boy smiled brightly and giggled. “Of course, I do! Its beautiful. I’ve never seen a beach like this.” 

John released a breath he’d been holding in, he absolutely loved seeing Sherlock being so happy. “Let’s walk along the shore.” 

They both walked down the small hill, removing their shoes as they sunk their feet in the warm sand beneath them. The boy stayed close to John’s side, admiring the lovely man next to him as the water lapped at his feet. 

“Is this better than being at school?” 

“That’s a silly question, John. I prefer being here with you than dying of boredom in class.” 

John chuckled as he came to stand in front of Sherlock, walking backwards. “Well, there’s more for you actually.” 

The boy couldn’t help but giggle as his cheeks colored in a pretty shade of red. “What else do you have for me?” 

“Well, if I spoil it, then its not a surprise, is it?” 

Sherlock jumped in excitement. “What is it?! Tell me!” 

John shook his head. “Sorry. My lips are sealed.” 

“Give me a clue then.” 

The man pointed behind him. “What’s behind me?” 

The boy looked past John. “A cove.” 

The man grinned blithely as he jogged towards the cove. “Come on!” 

Sherlock couldn’t contain the thrill entering his veins as he chased after John. They both ran for a few minutes until they entered the cove. The boy looked up at the tall rocks surrounding the cove, throwing his head back as he calculated the height of the rocks. John lovingly stared at the boy before him, adoring how Sherlock’s innocence rolled off his small body in beautiful waves. 

The man remained behind as he waited for the boy to notice the surprise. Sherlock continued adoring the scenery before him when he noticed a small creature flying past him. The boy followed the movement and noticed that the flying creature was… a bee. Not just any bee, it was a honeybee, Sherlock’s favorite species of bees. 

“John! It’s a honeybee! There must be a hive close by!” The boy shouted eagerly. 

Sherlock began to follow the bee, deducing where the hive must be located. John ran to the boy’s side and followed Sherlock. 

“How can you tell it’s a honeybee?” John questioned. 

The boy kept jumping up and down fervently as he faced John, his voice becoming high pitched as he explained the details that defined the features of a honeybee. “John! There are so many features that give away the species of a honeybee. Firstly, the abdomens are decorated with amber bands or they’re completely black. They have a buff-haired thorax, which is a dead give away. And their rear legs are bare and shiny.” 

John rumbled out deep chuckles at seeing Sherlock behaving like a little boy who discovered the existence of dinosaurs. Except, this boy loved the existence of bees. Sherlock stopped jumping and closed his eyes, mapping out the entire beach and deducing which area would be perfect for bees to have their hives. 

Once the boy figured out the location of the bees’ hive, he grabbed John’s hand and led the man towards the hidden spot. 

“I’ve never encountered a hive that belongs to honeybees before. Of course, they are located in Europe but never did I imagine that’d they be right here!” Sherlock squealed out. “How did you know I loved bees?” 

The two stopped running as John shrugged his shoulders. “When I brought you home, I noticed you had a stack of books that consisted of bees. I figured you wanted to see the bees up close.” 

The boy giggled delightfully as he wrapped his skinny arms around John’s body and hugged the man. John embraced Sherlock’s thin body, his strong arms enveloping around the boy’s entire form, gently reminding himself to not squeeze Sherlock so hard. He didn’t want to break the boy in half. 

Sherlock pulled away and smiled enthusiastically as they reached a hidden part of the cove, the gentle lap of the water was audible and the breeze blew against the rocks. Then the boy stopped, squealing in excitement at having located the hive. Approximately nine inches away, was a swarm of honeybees surrounding three hives. 

“Ah!” Sherlock didn’t know what to do with his hands so he settled for waving them around. 

“Honeybees are so fascinating! They live in colonies with one queen running the entire hive. And worker honeybees are all females and they’re the only bees most people ever see flying around outside of the hive. They build the honeycombs, and protect the hive.” 

John was rumbling out deep chuckles after chuckles, he honestly had to admit that the boy was beyond adorable. Sherlock looked so happy and free; the boy had the liberty to ramble on about interesting facts concerning honeybees but the man felt a warm sensation running through his chest. Oh, he didn’t want to let Sherlock go, he wanted to be with the boy everyday and protect Sherlock from any harm. 

John just wanted to hold the boy’s frail body against his broader one and be his protector till Sherlock became tired of him. The man would do anything for the boy, if Sherlock wanted to run away from this small town then he’d take the boy and disappear. If Sherlock wanted every part of John, then the man would give himself completely. 

Anything that the boy wanted, John would’ve gone to the ends of the earth to get it for him. 

“I’m so happy, John! I haven’t been this happy in a long time!” The boy giggled out as he watched the bees buzzing around them. 

“I’m very glad.” John came closer to the boy. “You do look adorable at the moment.” 

Sherlock faced the man and heavily blushed underneath John’s gaze. “Do I?” 

“Of course.” The man gently rested his hands on the boy’s hips, feeling the slight tremble of Sherlock’s body. “But do you know what’s even more adorable?” 

“What?” 

“Me tickling you!” 

John began to tickle the boy, holding onto Sherlock’s body as the beautiful sound of the boy’s laughter reached his ears. The boy had his back against John’s muscular chest, he couldn’t escape the man’s tough hold as he died of laughter. Sherlock tried to pull himself away from the man but the strength embedded in John’s muscles made it impossible for the boy escape the man. 

Sherlock felt his legs giving out, the boy fell towards the sand and that prompted an opportunity for Sherlock to crawl away from John. The boy continued his fit of giggles, believing that John was nowhere near him when the man slipped his hands around Sherlock’s puny torso and flipped him over in one motion. 

The boy yelped in surprise as the man turned him over and settled him over the fluffy sand. Sherlock couldn’t help the continuous giggles escaping his lips as John continued tickling him. The rumbling of John’s chuckles was music to the boy’s ears. 

Till finally Sherlock couldn’t take it anymore. “I give in! Please! Have mercy!” 

John heard the boy’s pleas and granted Sherlock the luxury of not suffering under the man’s tickles. The man placed his hands at either side of the boy’s head, his fingers sinking through the white sand. Sherlock’s giggles died down, not realizing that his hands were resting over John’s lower back. The man barely realized that the position the boy and him were in, was not considered a position that friends were usually in. 

John was in between Sherlock’s legs and the boy didn’t feel ashamed at having the man burrowed in between him but the red tint coloring Sherlock’s cheeks was a dead give away, signaling that the boy was nervous. John looked down at the beautiful boy beneath him, Sherlock’s curls were splayed over the white sand. 

The boy’s features vibrated of innocence and uncertainty, a mixture that made John wonder if Sherlock would ever want more than friendship with him. John brought his hand towards the boy’s face, his thumb grazed over Sherlock’s lower lip, caressing the tender flesh. The boy softly gasped as he craved for more of the man’s warm touch. 

Sherlock looked up at John and god, all he saw was the sun, a gorgeous star that shined brightly. The boy was never good in situations such as these, he never cared for it but for some reason, he knew he was willing to make an exception for John Watson. Sherlock was panicking, he’s never been this close to anyone before and not knowing what to do at this precise moment scared him. 

John wanted to kiss the boy, god how he wanted kiss him but somehow, it felt wrong. Sherlock was a minor and John was already a grown man. He didn’t want to take advantage of the boy and then spare the chance of Sherlock hating him for… well, the boy could be convinced that John manipulated him into kissing him and the man didn’t want that. 

It pained him to do it but John pulled away, removing himself from Sherlock’s body as he sat down. John sat next to the boy and stared out at the water before them. Sherlock felt his heart stopping, the warmth of John’s body had disappeared and now he was left bare… empty. The boy wondered if it was something he did wrong or maybe John didn’t want this. 

Sherlock came to rest on his elbows as he looked at John, feeling disappointed at himself for ruining the moment. The boy sat up properly and remained quiet as he eyed the water as well, going over ever detail and trying to figure out what went wrong or what he most obviously missed.


	5. Shake It Off

Greg returned to his office, downing the remaining contents of his donut and wiping away the icing coloring his lips with a napkin. Lestrade said good morning to his fellow coworkers and opened the door to his office, halting his steps as he eyed something… different on his desk. Greg furrowed his brows in confusion as he approached his desk. 

“Sally!” Lestrade shouted. 

Officer Sally Donovan entered the D.I.’s office. “What happened?” 

“Who sent this?” 

Sally eyed Greg’s gift, smiling at the man and blushing. “An anonymous admirer.” 

Lestrade walked around the desk, admiring the beautiful bouquet of red and white roses. “I don’t have anonymous or secret admirers.” 

Donovan chuckled. “I think you do.” 

“How do you know?” 

Sally pointed at the phone on his desk. “Because someone is calling you.” 

Donovan gave a flirty smile and walked away, winking at Greg before closing the door. Lestrade looked at the phone and realized that someone was waiting for him on the line. 

Greg picked up the phone with uncertainty. “Hello?” 

“D.I. Gregory Lestrade.” 

“Yes?” 

“Judging by the vagueness in your voice, you must have no idea who I am.” 

Lestrade chuckled nervously. “You’d be right.” 

“My name is Mycroft Holmes and I ran into you only 24 minutes ago.” 

Greg instantly remembered John mentioning the name Mycroft Holmes and Lestrade couldn’t help but contain his laughter to himself. It couldn’t be a rare coincidence that he’s met the older brother of John’s love life and now, that same older brother was sending him flowers and hitting on him. 

Who knew that getting a donut so early in the morning would grant him a chance to have a man running after him? 

With a warm smile, Greg answered. “You’re the tall snack I ran into at the bakery shop.” 

Mycroft faintly blushed but kept his voice neutral. “Of course. Did you receive my flowers?” 

Lestrade plucked a rose from the bouquet and pressed it against his nose, smelling the ripe aroma. “I did. They are beautiful. Can I ask you something?” 

“Anything.” 

“How did you know my name and how did you know where to find me?” 

Mycroft chuckled softly. “Your friend Mike helped me track you down.” 

Greg rolled his eyes, of course Mike would. For years, Mike has been trying to get Lestrade laid but all the men and women Mike has introduced to Greg, have never really been great encounters. But Lestrade supposed that Mike did a good job this time. 

“Well, that explains everything.” 

“Are you free any day of this week?” 

Greg looked at his schedule and snorted, clearly the murder rates in this town were nonexistent. “Yes.” 

“How about today?” 

“Yes, I’m free today.” 

Mycroft smiled brightly. “Perfect. Well, can you do two things for me?” 

“Sure.” 

“Firstly, look out your window.” 

Lestrade walked towards the window and began to laugh loudly. “Oh my god.” 

Mycroft was standing outside of the police station, leaning behind a sleek black car and smiling up at Greg. “Secondly, would you like to get lunch with me? I am very eager to be in your presence.” 

Lestrade licked his lips. “Well, work is pretty slow and I am famished. And I would like to spend more time with you.” 

“Then I believe we have a date, Gregory.” 

Greg blushed. “Give me five minutes and I’ll be down.” 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
After the kiss that didn’t take place, Sherlock and John remained seated in the sand, watching the waves crashing against the rocks and tainting the sand into a brown hue. The boy felt miserable, the day was going so perfectly when undoubtably, he managed to ruin everything. Sherlock wanted to apologize for the stupidity of his existence and ramble on about the five issues that were explicable reasons as to why the boy managed to spoil the moment. 

But Sherlock didn’t have the strength to make himself more pitiful than what he already was. Instead, the boy reluctantly rested his head on the man’s shoulder and pressed his small body against John’s compacted one. Sherlock’s skinny limbs were at one moment, cold and incomplete. Now, resting his frail form against John’s, the boy felt warm and safe, as if the man was the missing piece to completing his boring life. 

They stayed together like this for a couple of hours; listening to the seagulls singing above them, the faint buzz of the bees was surrounding them, and the aquatic melody of the ocean creating waves and splashing water all over the sand. The soft beams of the sun were grazing over their bodies, making Sherlock sleepy. 

John could feel the boy’s dark lashes rubbing against his shirt and the weight of Sherlock’s diminutive body was beginning to slump against his shoulder. 

“Sherlock.” John softly whispered, allowing himself to roam his nose over the boy’s hair and inhaling Sherlock’s lovely aroma. 

“Mm.” The boy answered, rubbing his pale face against John’s arm and looking up at the man with coy eyes. 

It took every fiber of strength inside John to not place his index finger under Sherlock’s chin and keep the boy’s gaze fixed on his. John wanted to gently slide the palm of his hand against Sherlock’s long neck and intertwine his fingers through the boy’s raven curls. The man simply desired to hold Sherlock this way and lean down to capture the boy’s lips, pressing against Sherlock’s tender mouth and kissing the boy. 

But John would not do that. 

“We should start heading back.” 

Sherlock looked down at the sand and tried to suppress a sorrowful frown upon his face, god, how could the boy fuck up everything so consistently? 

“Yes, we should.” Sherlock quietly agreed. 

John stood up and offered his hand to the boy, to which Sherlock slipped his nimble fingers through John’s and stood up. The boy stood before John and the man gave Sherlock a sweet smile before he began to walk away. 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
The two-hour drive back to Rye was silent and soundless, John had his eyes set on the road before them. Sherlock was looking out the window, feeling the cool breeze rustling through his curls as he clutched his hands together. John hated seeing the boy being insecure and uncomfortable, the man never wanted Sherlock to see or feel that way. 

John wanted to protect the boy, he wanted to make Sherlock feel secure, there wasn’t anything that the man wouldn’t do for the boy. God, John felt like the most horrible asshole on the entire earth. He could tell that Sherlock was disappointed in him, perhaps the boy did want a kiss but thanks to John’s cowardliness, that opportunity was missed. 

John stole a glance at the boy and a displeased growl escaped his lips, seeing Sherlock hurt was the most distasteful view John has ever seen. He placed one hand on the steering wheel while his free hand traveled towards the boy’s joined hands. Sherlock looked down and felt John’s rough fingers gliding over his skin, parting away the boy’s joined hands and threading their fingers together. 

The boy felt his cheeks coloring in the prettiest shade of red when he watched John bringing his hand towards the man’s lips. John didn’t break away from Sherlock’s gaze as he placed a delicate kiss on the back of the boy’s hand. Sherlock felt his heart flutter, John didn’t release the boy’s hand, instead the man rested their intertwined hands on Sherlock’s skinny thigh. 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
Mycroft drove Greg towards a park that Mycroft usually liked walking through in the morning before he left for work. It was the only time where Mycroft enjoyed the peace and serenity that didn’t include his family. But usually, he was never accompanied by anyone until now. Mycroft parked the car and opened Greg’s door, offering his hand to the D.I. and leading Lestrade towards the park. 

Mycroft offered his arm to Greg and the D.I. looped his arm around the crook of Mycroft’s elbow. They walked in silence for a bit, enjoying the breeze and seeing the trees swaying from one side to another. 

“I always come here for a walk. It helps to alleviate the stress I deal with at home. Usually, my solitude is the only company I have when I come here. But today, I find myself in the company of a riveting Detective Inspector. It appears that an unknown wish became complete.” 

Greg faced Mycroft. “And what wish would be that?” 

“Spending this day with someone special.” 

Greg felt his cheeks becoming red as he gazed up into Mycroft’s eyes. They both held their gazes for a while, their normal walking pace becoming slow. Greg didn’t even notice that Mycroft was taking him towards a secluded part of the park. Mycroft pushed aside the green leafed branches and to Greg’s surprise, a pretty picnic was waiting for them. 

Greg smiled brightly as he looked up at Mycroft. “Did you do this?” 

“Of course, who else?” 

Greg snorted as they approached the red and yellow checkered blanket splayed on the ground. On top of the blanket, there were three different baskets filled with delicious foods that Mycroft personally ordered. Greg was the first to sit down and Mycroft prompted the man to look through the baskets of food. 

Greg felt himself smiling like an idiot when he realized that all the food stored inside the baskets were his favorite food to eat. And to surprise him even further, Greg found two bottles of his favorite wine. 

“How ever did you know about my favorite foods and wine?” 

Mycroft smiled in triumph, winking at the man before he sat down. “I have my ways.” 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
John parked the car in front of Sherlock’s house. “Well, we’re here.” 

The boy looked at his house, he wasn’t ready to go inside just yet. “Yes, we are.” 

“I do hope you enjoyed today.” 

Sherlock looked back at John and smiled adoringly. “Of course, I did.” 

“Good.” 

They both fondly gazed at each other, their features softening as their eyes began to twinkle. The boy only realized that their hands were still together and oh, Sherlock could feel the unmistakable butterflies flying around in his tummy. The boy would give anything to belong to John but if he kept messing up perfect moments like today, then why on earth would John want him? 

Sherlock didn’t want to do this but he shyly untangled his fingers from John’s and reached back to get his backpack. 

The boy smiled sadly as he exited the car, closing the door behind him and bending down to see John through the open window. “Thank you, for everything.” 

With that, Sherlock walked towards the front door to his house and crossed the threshold, closing the door behind him. The boy threw his backpack to ground and leaned against the door, closing his eyes as he slid down to the floor. 

John watched Sherlock walking away and he could feel the painful tug at his heart with every step that the boy took to distance himself from John. 

John turned on the engine and drove home. “Fucking hell.” 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
The next morning, Sherlock unhappily woke up and went to school, ignoring every insult thrown his way by the bullies that loved to pester him. Since the boy was lacking in responding to Jim’s crude comments, Jim and the rest of his pals, settled for leaving Sherlock alone. For the boy was proving to be boring even for their standards. 

Sherlock was sitting in his usual seat for English class, paying no attention to his teacher as always. The boy’s thoughts were solely on John Watson; the man with beautifully sculpted arms that could easily sweep him off his feet, the man who could easily overpower his minuscule body in seconds, the man who Sherlock wanted to kiss so badly, the man who the boy was willing to give up his virginity too — 

“You missed a few things yesterday.” 

Sherlock was rudely interrupted by his thoughts when a small and shy voice reached his ears, a voice that he vaguely recognized when his eyes landed upon the girl who always sat next to him. The girl, Molly Hooper, was one of the few people who never bullied the boy. Sherlock really didn’t have anything against her, in fact, he just thought that she was terribly shy. 

“You do know that Irene Adler has been trying to get your attention since she first laid eyes on you.” 

Molly was fixing her ponytail when a scarlet blush crept over her cheeks. “What?” 

The boy signaled Molly to look behind her. “Its painfully obvious.” 

Molly looked behind her and to her surprise, Irene Adler was staring at her. To make Molly blush even harder, Irene was sensually licking a lollipop and sending a flirtatious wink towards the shy mousy girl. 

Molly quickly looked away. “Oh my.” 

“See.” 

“I never knew that.” 

Sherlock snorted. “And I suppose you don’t share the same feelings for her. Its dull to witness Irene approaching you because clearly your eyes become dilated and you tend to rush through your sentences. I’m fairly surprised that you haven’t come to terms of the evident crush you have on her.” 

Molly couldn’t think of a single to say, she was completely embarrassed and she regretted saying anything to the boy. 

Sherlock could easily read the discomfort in Molly’s posture and felt incredibly bad for starting the conversation with revealing the girl’s sexual appeal to Irene Adler. “Then again, not everyone notices who like they instantly.” 

Molly smiled and sat closer to the boy. 

Another girl named, Janine, who sat a row before Sherlock and Molly turned around and faced them. “Hey Molly, are you going to my party tonight?” 

Molly shrugged. “I don’t know.” 

“You should go.” Janine faced the boy. “You’re invited too, though I don’t expect anyone to shag you.” 

Sherlock rolled his eyes, he never did like Janine, every once in a while, she would leave the boy alone and whenever she was bored, she’d bug Sherlock to no end. “Thank you for your concern.” 

Janine falsely chuckled. “You’re welcome, freak.” She lost interest in the boy and returned to look at Molly. “The party starts at 9, you should come. Its going to be at my house.” 

“I’ll think about it.” Molly said with hesitation. 

Janine turned around and continued her conversation with the person next to her. 

“Are you going?” Molly whispered to Sherlock. 

“Irene is going. If you want to spend more time with her, I suggest you attend the party.” 

Molly looked back at Irene and fuck, the raven-haired girl sexily licked her lips and gave Molly a naughty smile. 

“You should come, Sherlock.” 

The boy suspiciously eyed the girl. “You want me to go with you for… moral support.” 

Molly felt ashamed. “No… well… yes. Please, Sherlock. I know we’re not friends but please, I don’t have the guts to go alone. I’ll stay by your side the entire night.” 

“I doubt that.” 

“Please.” Molly begged. 

Sherlock thought over the proposition; the party would be held at Janine’s house which meant that everyone attending this small school would be there and judging by Janine’s kink for older men, the party will be mixed company. The chances of people being underage and those considered ‘adults’ were high. 

The boy had never attended a party before, Sherlock never felt the urge to attend a party where teenagers and adults will most likely be drunk off their asses and the music would be booming loudly. That was never a goal that the boy looked forward too but he was curious. Perhaps this could be an experiment for him or it could serve as an ailment to obliterate his failed achievement with John. 

Yes, that sounded good to Sherlock and if the boy felt uncomfortable, then he could go home and work on his progressing experiments. 

Sherlock looked back at Molly. “Fine. I’ll go with you.” 

Molly brightened up and hugged the boy. “Thank you, Sherlock!” 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
John was tossing and turning in his bed, since he returned from leaving Sherlock at his house, the man quickly showered and restricted himself to being locked in his room. John couldn’t believe what a huge prick he was being, god, now John wondered if he ruined everything that he had with the boy. The man groaned against his sheets and kept replaying the moment where he could have claimed Sherlock’s lips. 

John could have tasted the boy; he could have slowly sucked on Sherlock’s lower lip, he could have elicited virgin moans from the boy’s mouth, he could have caressed the crook of Sherlock’s neck and held him close. The man could have used his free hand to grab the boy’s small thigh and squeeze the delicate flesh with his rough fingers. 

John could have rocked his hips against Sherlock’s, wanting to hear the boy coming undone and swallowing down every innocent moan that would escape Sherlock’s cherry red lips. Oof. The boy’s lips would become so swollen after the many kisses that John would give him. John could have easily felt the boy trembling against his wide chest, his muscles could have covered Sherlock’s fragile limbs and the man could have overpowered him. 

Fuck. 

John looked down at his briefs and to no surprise, his cock was standing upright, completely erect. There was a small patch of wet liquid dampening the man’s grey briefs. Fucking hell, already John was horny as fuck. This should feel wrong, thinking about a minor this way but why the hell did it feel good to think about the boy in sexual scenarios. 

John groaned as he removed his shirt, tossing the useless piece of clothing onto the floor and coming to rest on all fours. The man lowered his briefs and exposed his erect cock, the lengthy organ —which was bigger than the normal average male penis size— was pulsating with pre-cum. John buried his face in the pillow and began to fuck the sheets below him. 

The man rolled his hips forward, grazing his enormous cock against the soft sheets and growling loudly as he pictured Sherlock below him. John could feel a puddle of pre-cum soaking through his sheets and fuck, his biceps were constricting intensely and the outline of his muscles were visible. The man’s back was hunched over, the contours of his back muscles were smoothed over as his breaths controlled the rise and fall of his back. 

John could feel his abdomens tightening painfully as he continued rutting against the sheets, deeply wishing that his cock was buried inside the boy’s tight virgin ass. The man could easily hear Sherlock’s broken moans escaping his mouth and the non stop chant of the boy saying John’s name. The man could feel the heat radiating from his body, sweat was glistening down his back and curving towards his v-line. 

John could feel an orgasm building up, the man bit the pillow and growled possessively as he picked up the pace. In a few seconds, the man’s enormous cock was shooting out copious amounts of semen and it lasted about a minute until John was sure that every drop of come had left his shaft. The man exhaustedly slumped against his stained sheets and closed his eyes, basking in the afterglow of his orgasm. 

After a few minutes, John picked himself up and looked down at his stained abdomens. The man shook his head as cleaned himself up. Once John changed the sheets and felt clean, he decided to take a walk outside. The man took his keys and exited his home, the chilly air made John shiver a bit but the man didn’t care, for he just shoved his hands into his trouser pockets and blindly walked into the night. 

With nothing traveling through his mind, John didn’t notice that he close to approaching Sherlock’s home. The man could feel his cheeks becoming warm as inappropriate thoughts crossed his mind and the flashbacks of him rutting against his bed was freshly painted in his mind. A couple of more houses down and he’d reach the boy’s house. 

John was contemplating whether he should stop by and say hello or simply walk away, he couldn’t make up his mind when from afar he recognized Sherlock’s lithe form walking towards a girl. Immediately, John hid himself from sight and felt jealousy traveling through his veins. 

Who the hell was this girl? Did the boy prefer girls? Is she his secret girlfriend? Is she a friend? Who the fuck is she?! 

It really wasn’t John’s business, for all he knew, Sherlock could see and be with anyone he wanted. But to be fair, John wanted the boy to be his and no one else’s. 

So, could the man be blamed if he casually… followed Sherlock? 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
Sherlock and Molly arrived at Janine’s house, the boy decided to wear tight trousers that accentuated his ass perfectly and a baby blue dress shirt that brought out his pallid skin. Molly settled for wearing a spaghetti strapped floral dress that reached her knees with red flats. They both looked adorable. They were both greeted by Janine who was already losing her balance due to the consummation of alcohol. 

Janine laughed loudly. “Hey! You guys came! Awesome, well inside there’s drinks and food. Have fun you two, hehe.” 

The boy could easily deduce how intoxicated Janine was but to be honest, Sherlock preferred a drunk Janine than a sober Janine. The boy and Molly walked inside the big house, seeing almost everyone from school drinking and doing drugs. Sherlock could spot at least three older men who seemed to be chatting away with underaged teens who seemed to be craving vulgar sex. 

The boy sneered at the view and stuck by Molly’s side. 

“Want to go get a drink?” Molly asked loudly due to the music overpowering their voices. 

Sherlock shrugged and trailed behind Molly until they reached the bar. The boy’s nose scrunched in disgust as he smelled cheap beer being distributed and other alcoholic beverages that Sherlock didn’t care to try. Molly and the boy stood beside each other, standing awkwardly and eyeing the crowd before them when Molly jumped at the silky voice beside her. 

“Hi Molly.” 

Molly turned around and she was face to face with Irene Adler. “Hi Irene.” 

The boy snorted as he heard Molly rushing through her words to say hello. 

Irene smiled and purred. “Aren’t you guys drinking?” 

“Obviously not.” Sherlock answered. 

“You two need to loosen up.” Irene grabbed a bottle of tequila and poured shots for the boy and Molly. “Here, drink it straight.” 

Sherlock eyed the yellow colored liquid and lifted his eyebrow while Molly shyly waited for the boy to try it first. 

“Come on you two. We aren’t in school and there’s no one here to tell us no. Drink.” Irene drank down her shot and scrunched her face in bitterness as the acidic substance ran down her throat. 

Well, Irene did have a point, this party was only filled with idiots from school and everyone was too fixed on enjoying the party that Sherlock’s presence hardly mattered. Everyone at school hated him, except for Molly, and it would be nice to fit in with the crowd for once. 

The boy shrugged his shoulders and smiled. “Fuck it.” 

Sherlock downed the shot and somehow, he received many more shots that led him to lose control and become fucking wasted. 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
John followed Sherlock until he watched the boy disappearing inside a house that was blasting the music and serving alcohol. The man should have left, John should have walked away and gone home. But no, he couldn’t help but feel a lump settled inside his throat, he didn’t admire the idea of not knowing about Sherlock’s safety. 

John wanted to protect the boy from anything that presented to be a threat towards Sherlock. Well, could the man be blamed if he sneakily entered the house and… lightly kept an eye on the boy or to put it plainly, stalk Sherlock and be ready to save the boy if Sherlock needed help. John walked up the steps and was greeted by a girl who was clearly drunk. 

The unknown girl flaunted herself towards John and began to climb all over him. “Mmm, I haven’t seen you around here, daddy.” 

John smiled uncomfortably and disentangled himself from the girl’s grip and pushed her towards a group of girls taking shots. “Go away.” 

John didn’t like the atmosphere in this party, he became worried for the boy, it was obvious that the wrong attention could be acquired in a party like this. The man pushed through the crowds of underage teens and tried to locate Sherlock. John frowned at not locating the boy, so he went towards a large group inside the living room. 

The living room was probably the loudest part of the house for the music was located inside the living room. John scoffed at the teens who were dancing and drinking, not being able to keep their balance and falling towards the ground. God, John was so glad that he wasn’t teenager anymore, teenagers were stupid and ridiculous. 

John scanned the group of teens inside the living room, he was about to give up when he noticed familiar curls being pushed back by pale fingers. John moved across the room to see if he found Sherlock and fucking hell. The man remained frozen as he eyed the beautiful boy dancing with the girl he came to the party with. 

The living room was lowly lit with random colors bouncing off the walls, giving off dark shadows that could easily be mistaken for being at a club. Sherlock was dancing with Molly; the boy didn’t even know the quantity of alcohol running through his system but it was enough to make Sherlock behave freely. The boy had been dancing for about twenty minutes already, his curls were damp and sticking against his forehead. 

Sweat was running down his skinny body, light patches of perspiration were staining his back and chest. A few buttons popped open and his pale chest was exposed. And the beat to the music was making Sherlock sway his hips from side to side. The boy was intentionally throwing his arms in the air and sexily swirling his plump ass in a circle. 

The colorful lights were bouncing off the curve of the boy’s ass, highlighting Sherlock’s plush buttocks and making the boy look like a delectable dessert that John craved to taste. 

John could easily feel his cock hardening at the luscious sight before him, the way Sherlock shook his voluptuous ass and moved his hips in such a way that could easily be translated to the boy wanting to get fucked by someone. The man could feel himself growling in frustration, it wasn’t right for Sherlock to be exposing himself this way. 

John wanted to place his large hands on the boy’s bony hips and feel them sway from one side to another, the man wanted to grind his hard cock against Sherlock’s smaller one and squeeze the boy’s ass till his fingers left red marks everywhere. John didn’t want anyone seeing Sherlock’s beauty like this, he wanted to have the boy all to himself. 

God, it was so tempting to walk up to Sherlock and hold the boy against John’s body, the man wanted to drag his tongue across Sherlock’s long pale neck and drink down the boy’s sweat. Or John could walk up to Sherlock from behind and press the boy’s skinny body against his muscled one and feel Sherlock’s fleshy ass grinding against his erect cock. 

Oh, how John wanted to remove the boy’s clothes and feel Sherlock’s feeble body against his broad chest. John wanted to own the boy, he wanted to reprimand his right to being the only man who could see Sherlock this way. 

Fucking hell, John wanted to have the boy this instant. 

John was about to approach Sherlock when a man, an older man pulled the boy away. 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
Sherlock was nowhere near his mind; all he knew was that he loved to dance but never did he have chance to show off his dancing skills. And now, with the loud music pumping through his ears and the adrenaline running through his veins, the boy let himself go and danced to the beat. Sherlock closed his eyes and allowed the music to take over his body. 

The boy did remember that Molly was equally as drunk as him and even she left behind her coy personality and enjoyed the party. 

When the boy closed his eyes, his mind drifted towards only one man: John Watson. Sherlock wished to have the man before him, he wanted to feel John’s strong arms wrapping around his thin body and manhandling him. The boy wished to roam his nimble fingers over the man’s sweating chest, he wanted to feel John’s chiseled muscles against his palms. 

God, Sherlock just wanted John more than anything. The boy could feel his cheeks burning in shame, all these fantasies were leaving Sherlock thirsty for John’s lips. Since the boy was caught up in the music and thinking about John, Sherlock didn’t feel someone pulling him away and taking him upstairs. Slowly, the boy noticed that the music was becoming less boisterous and the smell of alcohol was no longer present. 

Sherlock opened his eyes and his surroundings were dark, all he felt was someone pushing him against the wall and kissing him. 

The boy closed his eyes and moaned against the kiss. “Oh, John.” 

The man who led Sherlock up the stairs and into an unoccupied room began to unbutton his trousers. “Call me anything you want, sweetheart. Just be a good little boy and stay quiet.” 

The boy made a disgusted face, what the fuck? That’s not John’s voice. Sherlock opened his eyes and began to panic when he realized that a stranger was murmuring against his lips. The boy made a whimpering noise and pushed the man back. 

“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” The man asked. 

Sherlock was trembling in fear as he tried to look for an exit. “Who are you?” 

“James Sholto. But you can call me John if you want. It seems you prefer that name more than mine. Don’t worry, I like to roleplay.” The man chuckled lowly. 

James began to approach the boy when Sherlock clumsily placed his hands before himself. “Please. Stay away from me.” 

James snorted as he grabbed the boy’s hands in one grip and forced Sherlock onto the bed. “Let’s play a game.” 

“No! No! Please! Get off me! You’re hurting me!” 

“That’s the point, sweetheart. Stay still or it will hurt more.” 

The boy tried to wriggle his way out of the man’s grip but Sherlock wasn’t strong enough to fight back. Sherlock began to feel tears streaming down his face when he felt the man pulling down his trousers and briefs. The boy tried to escape this situation; he began to weep loudly when James covered Sherlock’s mouth with his hand. 

The boy screamed against the man’s hand; he could hear the man’s trousers falling to the floor when the hand wrapping around Sherlock’s mouth disappeared. John entered the room and pulled James back, baring his teeth as he slammed James against the wall. 

“That was a big mistake.” John growled as he pressed his forearm against the man’s throat. 

John balled his hand into a fist and delivered an unforgivable punch towards the man’s groin. James didn’t even have enough time to scream out the pain he was feeling when John punched the man’s throat. James couldn’t even elicit a single sound from his mouth as he cupped his throat. John angrily threw the man on the floor and crushed his knuckles against the man’s nose. 

John continued punching the man’s nose until he heard the sickly crack of the man’s bones breaking. John’s knuckles were painted in blood, rivers of the man’s blood were pooling down towards John’s wrist. James could feel the unbearable pain spreading across his face. 

John stood up and looked down at the filth that dared to lay a hand on his beautiful boy. “If I see you anywhere close to him again, I will kill you.” 

With that, John stepped on the man’s face, hearing another crack coming from the man’s skull before James fell unconscious. John violently growled at the man before he went to Sherlock’s aid. 

“Sherlock. Sherlock. Can you hear me? Are you okay? Answer me!” 

The boy looked up at the familiar voice and smiled fondly at his handsome solider. “Jawwwn!” 

Sherlock began to giggle shyly. “I’m so happy to see you. Did you know that you smell like sunshine?” 

John could tell that Sherlock was severely drunk. “Are you okay?” 

The boy looked confused. “Huh?” 

“Never mind. Come on, we’re leaving.” 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
After Mycroft and Greg enjoyed their picnic in the park, they went on a lovely walk together and talked about themselves to each other. Their walk eventually led to them to buy ice cream and become two adorable dorks. Their date could have gone longer if Mycroft wasn’t annoyingly summoned to resolve a minor problem in his office. 

“Gregory, I’m so sorry but I have to leave and resolve something. I can take you back to your house.” 

Greg pouted inwardly at hearing that Mycroft couldn’t stay longer. “Sure, that’d be fine.” 

Mycroft drove Greg back to a small two-story cottage that had a lovely garden in the front. Mycroft parked the car and admired Greg’s home; it was an enchanting cottage. 

“How did you know where I live? Did you deduce that?” Greg asked in puzzlement. 

Mycroft smirked. “Of course, I deduced it. Then of course, being part of the British government gives me leeway to find information corresponding to the person who has captured my eye.” 

Greg chuckled. “Thank you, for the date and everything. I really liked it. You’re really lovely.” 

Mycroft couldn’t help the blush roam over his cheeks. “So are you.” 

It was Greg’s turn to become red. “I hope to see you again.” 

“You will, very soon.” 

Greg’s eyes twinkled as he came closer to Mycroft, delivering a sweet kiss to the corner of Mycroft’s mouth. “Bye.” 

“Until then, Gregory.” 

Greg exited the car and walked up to the front door, unlocking his door and giving one last smile to Mycroft before he entered his home. Mycroft bit his lip in happiness as he drove towards his job, forcing himself to not stop the car and jump up in excitement. 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
“You were always on my mind! You were always on my mind!” Sherlock sang as John carried him bridal style. 

The boy wrapped his gangly arms around John’s thick shoulders and scrubbed his face along the man’s shirt, savoring John’s cologne and purring in delight. 

John couldn’t help but chuckle at the boy’s behavior. “I think you’ve had enough to drink for one night.” 

Sherlock began to giggle in a high-pitched voice as his weak fingers pressed against the nape of John’s neck. “I, Sherlock Holmes, am not drunk! My dear John, what I am at this moment is fully inebriated.” 

“Isn’t that what being drunk means?” 

“Who’s drunk?” 

John couldn’t help the rumbles of laughter escaping his mouth. “Sherlock, I’m taking you home.” 

“No!” The boy clumsily thrashed his scrawny legs against the man’s hold and managed to wrap himself around John’s torso. “Please, don’t take me home!” 

John tried his best to avoid letting Sherlock fall to the ground, for the boy kept squirming against his hold like frightened cat. “I’m afraid there’s no other option.” 

“No!” 

Sherlock untangled himself from John’s torso and pushed the man back. John immediately placed his colossal hands on the boy’s delicate waist and made sure to help Sherlock stand on his two feet. The boy’s legs gave out beneath him and Sherlock fell towards the ground. Luckily, the man held onto the boy and pressed Sherlock against his broad chest, the boy’s curls were tickling John’s nose. 

Sherlock giggled timidly as he pressed his palms against the man’s ripped abdomens, his fingers began to trace over John’s sharp six pack. “You’re so strong and ripped. Can I lick your abdomens?” 

John placed his hands under the boy’s armpits and lifted Sherlock to his full height, ignoring the suggestive question that the boy murmured against his shirt. “Can you stand on your own?” 

The boy pulled his hands away from the man’s abdomens and lifted them in the air, signaling John to let him go. Cautiously, the man released Sherlock and the boy managed to stand on his feet, though he kept leaning towards one side a bit. 

“Of course, I can stand. I must be able to stand if we are to go to your house.” 

“What?” 

The boy kept losing his balance but he set his gaze on John, pointing a finger at the man. “Mr Watson, your intentions are most adequately obvious.” 

Sherlock leaned forward, pressing his nose against John’s. “You, John… er, I know your middle name but its escaping my tongue at the moment. Um, what was I saying? Oh yes! John Watson, I give you full permission to take me to your house and snog the hell out of me. You can place your sexy heavy body over my twinky one and show me things that I’ve never experienced before.” 

John smiled endearingly at the boy. “Sherlock, you’re drunk.” 

Sherlock leaned back and inelegantly waved his hand. “Being drunk doesn’t affect the vibrations I feel when I see you. You’re like a big hot throne-y beast that needs a mate.” The boy carelessly slapped his hand against his chest. “And that’s me.” 

Sherlock pointed past John. “So, off to your home!” 

The boy took a step forward and lost his balance. John quickly dove down and swooped Sherlock onto his shoulder as he walked towards the direction of the boy’s house. Sherlock’s head was lousily hanging upside down while his curls hung wildly by his ears. The boy’s hands began to roam over the man’s lower back, Sherlock sneakily lifted the hem of John’s shirt and touched the man’s bare skin. 

John felt the boy touching his skin and the man shook his head as he fastened his arm around the back of Sherlock’s knees, making sure that the boy wouldn’t slide off his shoulder. 

Sherlock began to giggle again. “John, did you know that viewing the world upside down is the same as viewing it not upside down. Hehe, I’m the only person who knows this. Ha! Oh, John, did you know that you smell so nice. Ou, and your thighs are really big and thick, can I touch them? Oh! Did you know that koalas are the closest living relatives to wombats, its absolutely marvelous.” 

John simply hummed his acknowledgement to the boy’s ramblings as he took the opportunity to eye Sherlock’s beefy ass which coincidentally, was next to his face. 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
“Darling, can you get the door?” 

Mr Holmes grumbled underneath his breath as he opened the door. “Yes.” 

John smiled. “Mr Holmes.” 

Mr Holmes made a surprised face as he viewed Sherlock thrown over John’s shoulder, hanging upside down as the boy continued his meaningless rambles. “What on earth happened?” 

“To put it nicely, he’s intoxicated.” 

Mr Holmes shook his head. “It did seem rather odd for Sherly to request persimmon to go to a party. Apparently, he had enough time to become drunk.” The older man moved aside. “Come on in, John.” 

“Thank you.” 

John entered the Holmes residence and started to go towards the stairs, which involved passing by the kitchen. 

The boy lifted his head and smiled a goofy smile at his father. “Hey daddy-o! You’re so wonderful, father! What would I do without you? Probably not exist, for you kicked in some chromosomes to help make me with mummy.” Sherlock giggled uncontrollably. 

Mr Holmes shook his head and returned to enjoying his cake. 

Mrs Holmes exited the kitchen. “Sherly! Is that you —“ 

Mrs Holmes’ excitement died when she saw John carrying the boy over his shoulder. “Is he drunk?” 

John shook his head. 

“Go on up, love.” Mrs Holmes patted John’s shoulder, feeling terribly sorry, for the man had to deal with her son’s ridiculous problems. 

“Mummy! Did you know that our blood is red due to the fact that it contains iron-based hemoglobin to transport oxygen to cells. Octopuses, on the other hand, use the copper-based cyanoglobin, which performs the same function, albeit less efficiently — this makes octopuses have less stamina than you might expect.” Sherlock excitedly said as he held onto John. 

“That’s lovely darling.” Mrs Holmes said as she re-entered the kitchen. 

John went up the stairs and entered the boy’s room, closing the door to Sherlock’s room and gently grabbing the boy’s small waist and depositing him onto the bed. Sherlock softly fell back on the mattress and looked up at John. 

“Are we home yet?” The boy asked. 

John smiled and pushed aside a dark curl from Sherlock’s face. “Yeah. You get rest.” 

The man turned to leave when he felt the boy doing his best to turn him around. “John, wait!” 

John looked back at Sherlock when the boy pushed him against the bed. Unexpectedly, John pulled Sherlock with him and they both fell on the mattress. The boy landed on top of the man and adjusted himself to straddling John’s hips. 

“John, John, John. I want you so badly.” Sherlock murmured against the crook of John’s neck. 

John held the boy by his hips and tried to push Sherlock off him, as much as he wanted to hear these words from the boy’s lips, he preferred to hear Sherlock saying them while being sober. “Sherlock, we should stop.” 

The boy pulled away and aimed to kiss John on the mouth but missed his target terribly. Sherlock uncoordinatedly, smacked his lips against the man’s nose and began to make out with John’s nose. 

The man couldn’t help but snort in laughter. “Sherlock. You’re kissing my nose.” 

The boy pulled away and peppered John’s face with sloppy kisses. “John, please. I’m yours. Just take me.” 

Sherlock began to whine adorably against the man’s cheek when his plush and juicy lips met John’s. The man widened his eyes for a second when he slowly gave in to the boy’s kiss. Granted, the kiss was uncoordinated, messy, and clumsy but feeling Sherlock’s succulent lips against John’s was heaven. The man took hold of the boy’s fuller lower lip and nibbled on it. 

Sherlock moaned meekly against John’s mouth; the boy began to ineptly roll his hips over the man’s hardening cock. John growled loudly as his hands slid down to grope Sherlock’s plump ass and help the boy control his thrusts, making Sherlock whimper beautifully. 

The boy licked John’s lips, leaving behind a moist trail of salvia. “You’re so lovely, John.” 

“So are you my darling.” 

John chased after Sherlock’s lips when the boy abruptly dropped his head against the man’s ear and knocked out. The softest snores were escaping Sherlock’s lips and John slapped his hand against his face. The man slowly sat up, holding onto the boy’s unconscious body and cradling Sherlock like a sleeping baby. 

John pulled the covers back and tucked the boy beneath the sheets, quickly removing Sherlock’s shoes and putting the boy to sleep. The man looked down at Sherlock and sighed, John traced his finger along the boy’s lips and decided to keep his distance from Sherlock.


	6. Supermarket Flowers

Sherlock was lying flat on his belly; the boy’s face was smothered against a silk pillow and his curls were wildly sticking out in every direction. Sherlock could feel a horrible pain radiating through his brain, angry pulses were causing the boy to experience headaches. Being hungover was probably the most wretched experience that Sherlock never expected to undergo. 

The boy sleepily rubbed his face against the pillow, trying to ease the pain in his head when Sherlock remembered the soft touch of John’s lips pressed against his pouty ones. The boy groaned, not really believing that John took hold of his threadlike hips and helped Sherlock rub himself against John’s —if the boy remembered correctly — bulky cock. 

Sherlock unconsciously licked his lips, already feeling the man’s humongous cock against his smaller one. The boy whimpered weakly and wondered if his fantasies were running away with him again. Sherlock didn’t particularly care at the moment, the boy just wanted to imagine how it felt like to kiss John and rub his smaller body against the man’s muscular one. 

Sherlock imagined John leading him towards the man’s lap and letting John wrap his colossal hands around his hips. The boy would surrender to John’s touch and the older man would capture Sherlock’s mouth in one swift movement. The boy could feel the man’s rough lips seeking refugee in between his plump and pillowy mouth. 

Sherlock could easily taste John’s tongue pressed against his and the addictive movements of their lips syncing together, creating a circular motion that even the boy didn’t realize how much he craved until he met John. The boy moaned against the pillow, fastening his slender fingers onto the edges of the bed and rolling his bony hips against the sheets. 

God, Sherlock had no idea if he was losing his mind but fuck, the boy seriously prayed that he actually kissed John last night. 

“Wake up, Sherlock!” 

The sudden scream startled Sherlock awake, causing the boy to yelp loudly and roll off his bed. Sherlock landed on the floor with a piercing thump and groaned in pain. The boy’s headache became worse, Sherlock cradled his head while the screaming continued. 

“William Sherlock Scott Holmes, what the hell is wrong with you?!” 

The boy painfully opened his eyes and saw that his vision was beyond blurry, instead Sherlock closed his eyes again and tried to pull himself together. Once the boy felt confident enough, he opened his eyes and looked up to see mummy angry beyond belief and his father smiling down at him while drinking his morning tea. 

Oh shit. 

Mrs Holmes placed her hands on her hips and snorted. “Good morning dear sweet son! How are you feeling this morning?! Do you have a headache?! Hm, I wonder why. Maybe because you went to a party to get absolutely drunk! What in the world were you thinking, Sherlock?! And not only that, to embarrass us even further, you had to be brought home by that lovely young man!” 

Sherlock barely comprehended any of the words his mother was shouting at him until he caught the last sentence. “What? Who… who brought me home?” 

Mrs Holmes began laughing. “Who else, Sherlock?! John Watson! That’s who brought you home. How embarrassing, the man had to carry you home and deposit you on your bed! Poor John, that man will grow sick of us if you don’t get your act together!” 

Once the boy heard that John brought him home, all the memories of last night hit him like freight train. The party; him getting drunk and dancing in the living room, someone taking him to a room, him being kissed by… by… oh, James Sholto. Sherlock shuddered at the memory, already remembering how wrong the man’s lips felt against his. 

Then the boy remembered being forced onto the bed and the man ripping away his pants. Sherlock was this close to being raped last night when something or someone stopped that from happening. 

Oh. 

The memory came crashing into his mind, he remembered James Sholto being ripped away from his body. The boy’s memory was a bit hazy but he could see the outline of John’s strong body grabbing James Sholto and slamming him against the wall. 

By this point, Sherlock remembered falling to the side and missing everything John said to the stranger but the boy could easily remember John’s voice dropping down to a dangerous growl and lord, Sherlock already felt his skin breaking into a wave of goosebumps. The boy could hardly recall the walk back to his house but he vividly remembered when John gently laid Sherlock on the bed. 

And… _oh god_ , the boy’s cheeks became extremely pink and flushed when he remembered that he practically harassed John onto his bed. Sherlock felt his pale hands tingling with embarrassment as he remembered straddling the man’s hips and pressing his small hands against John’s thick pecs. _Oh my goodness gracious_ , the boy remembered how he terribly failed to land a kiss on the man’s lips. 

Sherlock could feel himself burning up in shame when his drunk self managed to get it together and kiss John on the lips. Oh dear, the boy could still feel the man’s rough large hands kneading his plump ass cheeks and urging Sherlock to rub his little cock against John’s enormous one. The boy could still taste the man’s lips against his mouth; John felt so warm and the man’s lips were so nice to taste. 

Sherlock mentally scolded himself for giving John a sloppy and messy kiss but my god, the boy already knew that he couldn’t see the man again. John was probably too nice to push Sherlock off him and tell the boy to act like an adult but… Sherlock could have sworn that John wanted to share a kiss with him. The thought made the boy’s head spin too quickly for his liking and he barely registered the following words mummy decided to throw at him. 

In a matter of seconds, Sherlock felt his stomach preparing itself to regurgitate the alcohol in his system. The boy immediately stood on his feet, pushing aside his parents and running towards the bathroom. Sherlock ungracefully threw himself to the floor and lifted the lid of the toilet and began to puke out the remnants of last night. 

The boy began to cough up an acidic substance that burned his throat and honestly made Sherlock believe that he was closer to death than he expected. The boy held onto the toilet for his dear life and felt his lanky body shaking as he vomited a lot more. After the never-ending vomiting stopped, which succeeded to make Sherlock look paler than what he was already, the boy flushed the toilet and barely noticed mummy leaning against the door of the bathroom. 

“That serves you right, Sherlock. I hope you learned your lesson. As punishment, you will go to school today. You have five minutes to clean up and get downstairs to eat breakfast. Hurry up, now!” Mrs Holmes went downstairs, preparing her son’s breakfast. 

Mr Holmes quietly entered the bathroom and patted Sherlock’s skinny shoulder. “Oh, to be young and to feel love’s keen sting.” 

The boy looked up at his father, not understanding what the older man said. “Is that Shakespeare?” 

Mr Holmes chuckled lightly. “Its from Harry Potter. You know, Professor Dumbledore says it when…” 

Sherlock gave his father a look that usually meant that he didn’t have any knowledge concerning the rubbish quote that his father was currently citing to him and quite frankly, the boy didn’t care about his father’s rambles. 

The older man stopped talking and sighed, “Oh, never mind. Get dressed and meet us downstairs.” 

Once Sherlock’s father disappeared, the boy closed the lid to the toilet and rested his head on his forearms. The boy didn’t want to go to school but what choice did he have. All that Sherlock knew was that he must, no… he needed to go talk to John about the accidental kiss between the two and hopefully, their friendship wasn’t tarnished by the boy’s tendency to harass John Watson and force the man to kiss him whether John wanted to or not. 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
The bright atmosphere that surrounded Sherlock’s school was beyond annoying. The constant noise that never seemed to shut the hell up was making the boy’s headache triple in pain. Sherlock was extremely hungover and with the scolding he received at the breakfast table, it was safe to say that the boy hated everything and wished to be left alone. 

Sherlock walked down the hallway towards his locker, taking notice of every person who attended the party and to his disappointment, everyone looked either pissed off or hungover. The boy secretly hoped that with his attendance to the party, his popularity level would spike up but it seemed that not a single thing has changed. 

Perhaps it was wishful thinking but Sherlock really wanted the people who either hated him or bullied him, to change their minds about him and accept the boy for who he was. Or perhaps, Sherlock was willing to act differently in order to have everyone accept him. But his small desire to be accepted was revoked, it was a bruising realization but Sherlock needed to comprehend that he would never be accepted by anyone besides Molly. 

The boy met a few gazes from the people who attended the party and with every disgust they could muster, they ignored him as always. Sherlock was too caught up in his thoughts that he was oblivious to detect Jim, Sebastian, and Anderson walking towards him. Moriarty was the first to make his move and he roughly pushed the boy towards the lockers. 

Sherlock was slammed into his locker; his nose met the metal door and it caused the boy’s nose to bleed. The boy cupped his nose and looked up at the idiots who pushed him. 

Jim looked back and smirked at the boy, delivering a few kissy faces and flipping Sherlock off. “Careful where you’re going, freak.” 

The boy grunted and quickly went towards the bathroom, making sure the boys’ bathroom was empty before he locked main bathroom door behind him. Sherlock unsteadily turned on the faucet and filled his hands with water, splashing the cold liquid onto his face and washing away the dried blood from his nose. 

Sherlock looked at himself in the mirror; his curls were a fucking mess, there were bags underneath his eyes, and his appearance reflected the borderline of someone who was about to die soon. The boy couldn’t believe how stupid he was to attend that party. If Sherlock wanted too, he could lay the blame on Molly Hooper but the boy knew that his curiosity was the main reason for his stupidity. 

All Sherlock wanted was acceptance but he supposed that he was too much of a freak to be considered normal. For wanting to be normal, he encountered that horrible man at the party who wanted to have fun with him. James Sholto, an old creep who wanted an easy fuck. But if it wasn’t for John, sweet John, the boy would have been raped and god knows what else could have happened to him. 

Not only did the man save Sherlock but the boy embarrassed himself by basically harassing John and smooching the man’s mouth. And the kiss, oh the kiss, Sherlock could remember every detail concerning the kiss. The boy loved yet hated every second of their shared kiss. Sherlock loved the kiss because if he was to share his first kiss with anyone, then that someone would have been John Watson. 

Yet, the boy hated the kiss because it was sloppy, uncoordinated, and the chances of making the man feeling uncomfortable was a high possibility. Sherlock didn’t want to look back and remember that his first kiss happened when he was shit faced and had no control over himself. 

God, the boy had embarrassed himself so much that he couldn’t understand how John could still see him and not reprimand Sherlock for being a fucking idiot. If anything, the boy has learned one valuable fucking lesson. Sherlock learned that he wouldn’t change himself to be accepted by others and he was fine being alone, alone protected him. 

If the boy needed to open up to someone or be friends with someone, then he would choose John Watson. God, Sherlock regretted every moment he spent at that party and blamed himself for being clumsy and foolish. The boy shook his head, feeling angry at himself for behaving like a damn idiot. Without hesitation, Sherlock violently punched the mirror before him and yelped in pain. 

The boy sobbed quietly, cradling his fist and cursing at himself for being flimsy and weak. Sherlock couldn’t even handle a small punch towards the mirror and already, the boy could feel the sharp pain crawling over his knuckles. Sherlock looked down at his fist and noticed the pallid color of his skin turning into an angry shade of purple. 

The boy’s lower lip quivered; Sherlock placed his bruised fist under the freezing tap water and wished that John were at his side, taking care of his injury and comforting the boy. 

God, Sherlock hated everything. 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
Sherlock sat in his English class, wishing for the day to end already. Their teacher hadn’t arrived yet so the boy stayed quiet in his seat, deducing all the students in his class and hating the bright lights above him. Sherlock noticed Janine entering the class and she scoffed at the boy, purposely shoving Sherlock’s notebook to the ground and giving her usual insult to him. 

The boy picked up his fallen notebook, deciding it was a bad idea to bend over because his headache became worse and Sherlock groaned. 

“Had fun copulating with an older man who clearly only wanted to use you for fun? It’s obvious that he’s only interested in your youth and body. So, don’t expect that man to love you for who you are because if he honestly saw how idiotic you are, he’d abandon you in a second.” Sherlock said. 

Janine turned around, scowling at the boy. “Piss off, freak. No one asked for your opinion anyways.” 

Sherlock rolled his eyes and leaned back in his seat, waiting for the class to start. A few minutes later, Molly came walking into their English class; fixing her dress and trying to fan away the deep red blush spreading across her cheeks. 

Molly sat down next to the boy and cheerily greeted Sherlock. “Hi, Sherlock!” 

The boy scrunched his face in pain and eyed Molly. “Can you please refrain from speaking so loudly? Your voice today seems ten times louder than usual. And you’re never this happy to see me.” 

Sherlock quickly deduced the girl and smirked. “Oh. Clearly from the tinge of red on your cheeks, you just came back from an interaction that left you excited and flushed. Judging by the way you keep rearranging your dress, it’s obvious that you were with someone who touched you in a sexual way. Perhaps this happened in one of the girls’ bathroom stalls and in fact, you weren’t with a boy.” 

The boy did another sweep over Molly’s body and snorted. “You were with Irene Adler; her lipstick is still on your mouth and unless you both share the same perfume which I highly doubt. It’s obvious to state that you and Irene were in the bathroom stalls where Irene penetrated your vagina with her fingers and mostly likely placed her mouth somewhere on your breasts. Most likely your nipples.” 

Sherlock looked back at Molly and the girl next to him was dying of shame. Too make things even worse, Irene walked in and took her usual seat in the back and made eye contact with Molly, lewdly licking her fingers and winking at Molly. 

The shy girl turned around and faced the boy next to her. “Please, don’t say anything about this.” 

Sherlock snorted. “Who would I tell anyways? Besides, its all boring.” 

Molly shook her head, “So, did you enjoy the party?” 

“It was a waste of time and I have no desire to talk about it. Please don’t try and chit chat with me because I’m not in the mood this morning and quite frankly, tolerating your presence this morning is the least I can do.” 

Molly didn’t understand why the boy was acting this way but before she could ask him any more questions, their teacher walked in and the class commenced. 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
John didn’t sleep much last night, the memories of him kissing Sherlock were playing in his head like an endless loop. The man couldn’t get the boy out of his head, the touch of Sherlock’s plush and full lips was like heaven. Feeling the boy’s scrawny body pressed against John’s broad chest was beyond perfection. 

God, the man wanted nothing more than to protect Sherlock and keep the boy all to himself. John would have gone after Sherlock and made the boy fall head over heels for him, if it wasn’t for the tiny problem concerning their age difference. The boy was young, pure, and untouched. Sherlock was obviously a virgin which made the man extremely hard every time he thought about it but it felt wrong to lust after a boy who probably wanted more than a broken soldier. 

John couldn’t fucking deal with this shit and besides that, the man felt angry towards Sherlock. If the boy took more precautionary measures, then Sherlock would have never put himself in danger with a strange man who clearly wanted to rape him. John couldn’t stand knowing that another man touched the boy in a disgusting way. 

John then realized that if he didn’t follow Sherlock last night then the boy would have been brutally raped by that sick fuck and no one would have helped the boy. The man growled underneath his breath and reached for the vase resting on the nightstand and threw it towards the wall. The glass vase shattered into pieces and John stormed out of his bedroom. 

The man decided to look for his punching bag and hang it outside on a pole. John went inside his house to put on a pair of clad blue jeans that encompassed his meaty thick thighs and pulled off his T-shirt. The man wrapped layers of white cloth on his knuckles and stepped outside into the sunny day. John stretched his arms and took out all his anger on the punching bag. 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
Finally, school had ended and Sherlock slipped past the crowds of students and made his way towards John’s house. The boy had to admit that he was nervous, he didn’t even know what to say to the man but Sherlock needed to make things right. Even if the boy already felt his cheeks becoming incredibly flushed at the embarrassment he was about to face. 

Sherlock turned the corner and immediately saw John’s house. The boy picked up his pace and arrived at the man’s front door. Sherlock took deep breaths before he forced himself to ring John’s doorbell. The boy remained patient, waiting for the man to open the door but no one came. Sherlock rung the doorbell again and frowned. 

The boy took a step back and deduced that John hadn’t left his house this morning so it was obvious that the man was home. Oh no. Sherlock felt his confidence wavering when he realized that perhaps John didn’t want to see him at all. The boy pouted sadly and couldn’t believe that it was his fault for ruining their friendship again. 

Sherlock’s shoulders slumped forward, he decided to go back home when he noticed that John’s neighbor, Mrs Hudson, had her door wide open. The boy peeked inside and decided that perhaps the older woman knew where John was. Sherlock entered the house, looking for Mrs Hudson until he found her by the window, fanning herself and gulping down a glass of water. 

The boy was confused as to her reaction but gently called her name. “Mrs Hudson?” 

The older woman turned around, her cheeks were flushed and she was out of breath. “Oh! Hello, dearie. You’re…” 

“Sherlock.” 

“Ah, yes! Sherlock. Are you looking for John again?” 

Sherlock shyly blushed. “Yes, I am. Is he here?” 

“He’s outside, dearie.” 

“Oh, thank you.” 

The boy suspiciously eyed the older lady who left for the kitchen but didn’t particularly care about Mrs Hudson’s odd behavior. Sherlock pushed open the door that led to the back and immediately felt his knees going weak. From afar, the boy could see John furiously hitting a punching bag. Now, Sherlock understood why Mrs Hudson was acting the way she was. 

The older woman was watching John’s semi-nude form and the boy didn’t blame Mrs Hudson for wanting to see a fine as hell man with sun kissed skin and bulging muscles. Sherlock came closer to the man and my goodness, now that he was closer, he could see John’s back muscles more clearly. The day was sunny and to the boy’s calculations, John has been out here for a while. 

Sherlock bashfully eyed the man’s sculpted back, his muscles were dripping with sweat. The boy felt himself becoming hot as he eyed the man’s broad shoulders flexing each time, he threw a punch. And Jesus, those jeans were doing John pure justice. Sherlock could see the streams of sweat rolling down the man’s beefy back and dampening the waistband of John’s jeans. 

The man didn’t even realize he had an audience, so John unashamedly poured out his fury and delivered the last punch with such violence that he managed to break the punching bag. John sent the torn punching bag across the grass, clearly seeing the fine grains of sand being scattered everywhere. 

The older man cursed underneath his breath for breaking the third punching bag in a couple of hours. John left the discarded punching bag on the grass and prepared to go inside the house to retrieve another one when he noticed the boy standing a few feet away from him. 

“Sherlock.” The man said in a deep and raspy voice. 

Sherlock felt his mouth going dry, Jesus Christ, once John turned to face him fully, the boy couldn’t help but let his eyes wander down the man’s exposed chest. John was panting loudly, causing his burly pecs to move up and down. The man’s husky build was fucking ridiculous; his strong biceps were covered in hefty muscles that clenched and unclenched whenever John balled his hands into fists. 

The man’s abdomens were glimmering in sweat, ripples of perspiration were rolling over John’s bulky six pack and dipping inside the contours of the sharp v-line that left Sherlock dizzy. And then the boy’s eyes trailed up to the star shaped scar that decorated the man’s left shoulder. The flesh was marred and beautiful, Sherlock could tell that John wasn’t ashamed of the mark left behind on his skin due witnessing the violence of war. 

John combed his rough fingers through his moist blond hair and shook his bloody knuckles as he took a step forward. The boy couldn’t help but notice the dark trail of hairs leading down towards John’s evidently enormous cock. Sherlock lowered his head in embarrassment and smiled shyly, feeling his pale cheeks becoming a pretty shade of pink. 

John stared at the boy. “How are you feeling?” 

“Well, being hungover was never a welcoming experience.” 

“No, its not.” The man rested his sweaty hands on his hips. “Why are you here?” 

Sherlock flinched at the sharp and angry tone. “Last night, you brought me home.” 

“Ah, so you remember. How much do you remember?” 

“Everything.” 

John snorted and went to get another punching bag; attaching it to the hook on the pole and turning away from Sherlock, resuming to slamming his knuckles against the punching bag. “So, if you remember everything then why are you here?” 

The boy felt a stab of pain when he realized that the man didn’t want to talk to him. “I’m here because I wanted to say thank you for helping me. If it weren’t for you… things with that man… would have turned out badly.” 

“No shit, Sherlock.” 

Sherlock realized that John began to punch the bag a lot harder this time, pure anger was rolling off the man’s body. 

The boy didn’t understand why John was mad, he tried to find any clue that could lead to deciphering the man’s anger. “Why are you mad, John?” 

John snorted, stopping to face Sherlock. “You deduce people, right? Well, deduce why I’m angry.” 

The boy followed the man’s movements until it hit him. “You’re angry about the kiss.” 

John burst out into laughter, resting his temple against the punching bag. “You’re funny. You’re really funny. But you’re wrong, I’m not mad about the kiss.” 

“Then why are you mad?” Sherlock asked, almost pleading. 

The man snarled outrageously; delivering a vicious punch towards the punching bag before stalking towards the boy, making Sherlock step back in fear. “You wanna know why I’m mad, Sherlock? Do you really wanna know? Okay, I’ll tell you.” 

John took another step towards the boy, scaring Sherlock and causing the boy to stumble towards the ground. 

The man towered over Sherlock. “I’m mad because you put yourself in danger last night. What the hell were you thinking? Sherlock, do you understand that if it wasn’t for me, you would have been hurt or raped by that sick fuck! Why the hell were you at that party?!” 

The boy kept flinching at the dangerous tone of voice John used towards him. “I was invited. I wanted to go.” 

The man chuckled. “Sherlock, teenage parties are full of shit! Can you comprehend that?! Things either go really good or really bad and in our case, shit went bad. And what about that girl you were with?! Was she taking care of you?! No! You were all alone, Sherlock. Clearly you can’t defend yourself so, obviously you were easy bait.” 

Sherlock felt his eyes becoming watery, John was right. The boy knew that the man had every right to be angry with him. If anything, Sherlock blamed himself entirely for being the stupid idiot that he was last night. The boy felt so ashamed of himself and wished to erase John’s anger towards him. 

“John, I know I made a mistake but I’ll never do it again.” 

The man walked away, resuming his stance in front of the punching bag and shaking his head. “You’re so smart, Sherlock. Yet you do dumb shit.” 

Sherlock shakily stood up, feeling himself on the verge tears when a solution popped into his head. The boy knew that everyone who hated him would hit him and hurt him, it was a display of violence that usually made the person who was delivering the bruises feel empowered and better. Perhaps that’s what John needed, maybe the man needed to release his anger towards Sherlock in a physical way. 

And besides, the boy has been beaten up so many times that a couple more bruises from John wouldn’t hurt. Sherlock was used to it anyways, so the boy walked towards the man again, preparing himself to feel the pain that was yet to come. 

“Do you want to hit me to make yourself feel better? Cause you can.” The boy said in a low whisper. 

John turned around; surprise written all over his face until his eyes became clouded by rage. “Is that what you think of me?” 

“I wouldn’t mind if you hit me.” 

The man growled like a possessed monster and broke the punching bag, walking towards the boy as he snarled in Sherlock’s face. “Is that what you really think of me?! That I’m no different than those fucking assholes who beat the shit out of you everyday! Well, guess what, Sherlock, I’m not like those bullies who take advantage of you.” 

John shook his head in disbelief. “I would never hit you, Sherlock. I would never lay a fucking hand on you even if it was to save my own damn life. And to hear you think I would hit you… leaves me baffled as hell. Friends don’t hurt each other. So, if you’re looking for someone to beat you, then you’re looking in the wrong place, Sherlock.” 

The boy couldn’t help but cry, why did he say that? What was wrong with him? Now he was responsible for making John angrier than he was before. Of course, John would never hit him. It was due to the spur of the moment that Sherlock said those words. God, he regretted opening his mouth and making the situation worse. 

Before the boy could apologize for being an idiot, John walked away from him. “Leave, Sherlock.” 

“What?” 

The man faced Sherlock. “I said leave.” 

“John, please, I’m sor —“ 

“Leave! Get the fuck out of my house and leave me the fuck alone! Get your shit and leave!” 

The boy began to squeak out hurtful sobs; Sherlock didn’t want to ruin what they had but for opening his stupid mouth this was the consequence he earned in return. The boy grabbed his backpack and ran towards the house, wiping away the wet tears that slid down his cheeks. Sherlock vaguely heard Mrs Hudson asking if he was okay but the boy ran towards his house. 

Sherlock arrived at his house and skipped three steps at a time until he reached his room. The boy shut the door behind him and pressed his back against the door. Sherlock cried loudly and slid down to the floor, pulling his lanky legs towards his chest and pressing his face into his forearms. The boy cried in misery, hiccuping a few times and hating himself more than he already did. 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
“Sherly! Sherly! Where are you?! Come on now! The show will start at 7 pm. Pm! Not am!” Mrs Holmes shouted as she went up towards her son’s room. 

Mycroft and his father were sitting in the living room, dressed in expensive suits and waiting for Sherlock to hurry up. 

Mrs Holmes knocked on the boy’s door, entering her son’s room and seeing Sherlock curled up in a ball underneath the sheets. “Sherly, are you alright?” 

The boy had his back towards her, “I don’t feel well. My head still hurts and it seems I’m in no shape to go to the show tonight. Can I just stay home?” 

Mrs Holmes sat at the edge of the bed, pressing the palm of her hand on Sherlock’s head and frowning. “Are you still hungover?” 

“Yes.” 

The older woman sighed. “Alright, you can stay home. But next time, if we have an outing you will go, do you understand?” 

The boy shook his head and watched as mummy went down the stairs. After a few minutes, Sherlock heard his family entering their car outside and driving away, leaving the boy all alone in their big house. 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
John was currently walking through a supermarket around nine thirty at night, looking for a bouquet of flowers for Sherlock. After their heated argument, the man called himself an utter dick for behaving the way he did towards the boy. John had no right to yell at Sherlock the way he did and he certainly hated knowing that he was reason for the boy crying when he left. 

The man walked through the flower aisle, trying to decide what flowers Sherlock liked but he couldn’t make up his mind. John shrugged and chose a bouquet that housed a variety of different flowers and went to pay for them. 

The young lady who rang him up smiled. “Is that all for you today?” 

“Yup. Just supermarket flowers for someone.” 

“I bet she’ll love them.” 

John shook his head. “Hopefully he does.” 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
Sherlock turned off the light in his room and crawled out his window, sitting on the rooftop of his house and feeling himself being completely sad. It’s official, the boy had tarnished his relationship with John Watson and now his life would go back to same boring routine. God, Sherlock was so stupid, he couldn’t believe that he risked himself that way and angered John. 

The boy was about to cry again when he heard a truck pulling up in front of his house, a package was being delivered by a young woman. Since the house was dark, she wouldn’t be able to see Sherlock sitting on the roof. The young woman rung the bell once and decided to leave the package at the front door. 

The woman was making her way towards the truck when she changed course of direction and went towards a man with a bouquet of flowers. The boy squinted his eyes, not really seeing the man’s face but watched the interaction nonetheless. Sherlock stayed quiet until he recognized the man’s voice… it was John. 

Oh god, the boy couldn’t see this. Perhaps John decided to seek out a one-night stand and coincidentally, he was able to pick out a girl right in front of Sherlock’s house. The boy was ready to walk towards his window, Sherlock didn’t care if he was jealous towards the boring girl who clearly captured John’s eye. 

The boy slid the window open when he heard the man snarling and telling the girl that he wasn’t interested in her. Sherlock resumed to his spot on the roof, sitting quietly as he watched the girl walking towards her truck and driving away furiously. The boy carefully observed John walking towards the front door and felt himself becoming confused. 

The man rung the doorbell and waited patiently until he stepped back, “Sherlock! Its me, John. Please, I know I was a dick to you today and I’m extremely sorry for shouting at you. Can you please open the door for me?” 

Sherlock remained silent, biting his lower lip and watching as John sighed and began to walk away. “John!” 

The man turned around and almost missed the boy sitting on the roof. “Sherlock? What are you doing up there?” 

“I… I needed air.” 

“Can we talk?” 

Sherlock shyly nodded. “Give me second and I’ll open the door.” 

“Wait! No, don’t leave. I’ll climb up there.” 

The boy giggled bashfully. “That’s highly impossible.” 

John smirked. “Well, when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however probable, must be the truth.” 

Sherlock couldn’t help the enormous bright smile gracing his lips. “I suppose that it is a valid argument.” 

The man chuckled. “Do me a favor though.” 

“Yes.” 

“Hold these flowers for me.” John threw the flowers towards the boy and Sherlock caught them. 

“But John, be careful. You can fall and hurt yourself.” 

John snorted. “Trust me, I won’t fall.” 

The man began to climb up the house, using the bars around the windows to pull himself up towards the boy. Sherlock was nervously praying that John didn’t hurt himself and let out a relieved sigh when the man safely pulled himself up and sat next to the boy. 

“See, told you I wouldn’t fall.” 

Sherlock giggled. “Obviously.” 

The boy took the opportunity to view John’s outfit and lord Jesus, the man was wearing a dark blue long-sleeved shirt with black jeans and wood colored dress shoes. The tight sleeves that hugged John’s hardy biceps were nicely outlined by the fabric. Sherlock dared to let his eyes wander over the man’s muscles whenever he flexed them and the boy blushed, nonchalantly blowing air in his face while trying to act normal. 

John took in a deep breath and pointed towards the flowers in the boy’s hands. “I got them for you. I hope you like them.” 

Sherlock looked down at the flowers and timorously smiled. “Thank you. I love them.” 

The man grinned proudly and focused his vision ahead, trying to regain his confidence and rearranging the words of apology in his head. The boy thanked the distraction of the flowers in his hands and pretended to study each flower while having an internal panic attack. Sherlock wasn’t sure if he should apologize now or if he should wait a few more minutes before speaking. 

A few minutes had passed by yet no words were being exchanged between the boy and John. The two were accompanied by the most awkward silence they’ve ever experienced. Sherlock began to fidget nervously; he hated the long silence but the boy couldn’t figure out what to say. 

John released a deep breath and faced the boy. “I’m sorry.” 

“John, I —“ 

The man raised a hand, signaling Sherlock to stop talking. “No, I… shit. Let me get this out before I regret not saying anything. I’m sorry for being such a huge cock today. I didn’t have the right to yell at you and I certainly shouldn’t have scared you the way I did. The truth is… I care about you so damn much that I don’t ever want to see you get hurt.” 

The boy looked up into John’s eyes and felt his cheeks being tainted in a bright red color. “Why would you care about me?” 

The man let out a chuckle. “Why wouldn’t I care about you?” 

“Well, I’m a freak and people don’t usually like me.” 

John growled underneath his breath and gently lifted Sherlock’s chin. “You’re not a freak, Sherlock. If anything, you’re fucking brilliant and amazing. You’re the smartest person I’ve ever met and if those assholes at school can’t see that, then they’re idiots.” 

The boy giggled, shyly pulling away from the man’s grip. “You’re probably the only one who’s really nice to me.” 

“Well, let’s hope I’m the only one who gives you praise.” 

Sherlock pushed back a curl behind his ear and couldn’t help the enormous smile spreading across his lips. 

“So, do you forgive me? I swear, I won’t ever yell at you again and I’ll never take out my anger on you. I just… I just want to protect you and keep you safe.” 

The boy plucked a dark pink stargazer lily from the bouquet of flowers and gave it to John. “I accept your apology.” 

John snorted and took the flower. “So, we’re good then.” 

“We’re really good.” 

The man didn’t take his eyes away from Sherlock, he watched how pretty the boy looked underneath the stars. Sherlock gingerly forced himself to look up into John’s eyes again and… oh my, the boy studied the man’s masculine features and felt himself falling into a trance. It was only after a couple seconds when Sherlock registered the warm yet strong hand caressing his soft and pale cheek, bringing him closer to John’s body. 

The boy swallowed down his saliva and felt his heartbeat palpating faster than its normal speed, his breath was coming in quick pants and Sherlock began to tremble. John tenderly removed the bouquet of flowers from the boy’s quivering hands and slowly enclosed his massive arm around Sherlock’s petite waist. 

The boy gasped frailly when he felt the man shifting his puny body towards his lap, instinctively Sherlock’s gangly limbs settled themselves at either side of John’s wide and thick thighs. The man’s raw and rugged hands slowly traveled up the boy’s long neck until he cupped Sherlock’s cheeks. John’s thumbs ran over the boy’s silky skin and outlined Sherlock’s sharp cheekbones. 

The boy leaned against the caress, trying to keep the forty-seven heart attacks he’s experiencing under control. Sherlock demurely pressed his weak hands against the man’s broad chest, meekly unbuttoning John’s shirt and tracing his fingertips over the man’s bronzed collarbones. The boy continued touching the sculpted muscles that John pertained when his frail fingers reached the star shaped scar that covered the man’s left shoulder. 

John followed Sherlock’s gaze, he looked down and noticed that his scar was visible to the boy. The man was never ashamed of the scars he owned on his body but for some reason, he didn’t want Sherlock to be frightened or sickened by the imperfection that marred his skin. 

“Does it disgust you?” 

The boy slowly shook his head, never taking his eyes off the scar. “No.” 

John felt a growing warmth spreading across his chest as he ran his coarse fingers through Sherlock’s curls. “Can I kiss you?” 

The boy parted his lips and met the man’s gaze before coyly whispering, “Yes.” 

The man pressed his forehead against Sherlock’s, resting one hand on the nape of the boy’s neck while the other hand cupped Sherlock’s chin. 

John grazed his thumb across the boy’s plush lower lip and came closer, “You’re not drunk, are you?” 

Sherlock giggled lowly, “No, I’m completely sober.” 

“Good. Close your eyes for me.” 

The boy could feel himself becoming drowsy as he inhaled the man’s dark and heady scent. John benevolently pressed a kiss over Sherlock’s eyes, breathing in the boy’s rapid breaths and placing another kiss on Sherlock’s nose. The boy could feel the air escaping from his lungs when he felt the man pressing a sweet kiss to the corner of his mouth. 

John admired the pink blush spreading across Sherlock’s face before he pressed his lips against the boy’s. A small moan escaped Sherlock’s mouth when the man connected their lips together. John sensually took the boy’s lower lip, sucking on the tender flesh and pressing Sherlock’s lanky body against his bigger one. 

The boy shakily wrapped his slender fingers around the nape of John’s neck and couldn’t believe how good the man tasted against his mouth. This was the kiss that Sherlock craved for, one that was slow and intimate. The boy loved how better one’s kiss felt when they were sober. The kiss was wet, hot, and breathtaking. 

John groaned against the kiss, feeling himself going crazy over how sweet Sherlock tasted. The man could swear that he was tasting a sea of cherries and syrupy strands of strawberry that coated the boy’s lips. John delicately pushed his tongue inside Sherlock’s mouth and swallowed down the tiny squeak the boy let out. 

Sherlock has never kissed anyone but my god, he was so fucking happy that his true first kiss was with John Watson. And no matter if he was inexperienced, the boy was always a fast learner. Sherlock accepted the man’s tongue and innocently created a steady motion that caused their heated lips to overlap one another. 

They pressed their tongues together, already feeling the silky warmth that caused the boy to melt against John’s mouth. The man added a gentle pressure to Sherlock’s mouth but kept himself in control, wanting to enjoy the most heartfelt kiss he’s ever given to anyone before. The man tightened his grip around the boy’s neck and continued mixing their saliva while exploring Sherlock’s lovely mouth. 

John swiped his tongue over the boy’s lower lip and gently rolled the puffy flesh in between his teeth, enjoying the virgin moans escaping Sherlock’s pouty mouth. The man heatedly placed his hands over Sherlock’s bony hips and prompted the boy to grind against his hard cock. The boy shuddered against the tight grip on his hips and followed the man’s lead, naively rolling his hips and yelping when he felt John’s enormous shaft growing in length. 

The man crushed his lips against Sherlock’s, opening the boy’s mouth before he pulled away. Sherlock excitedly held onto John’s bulky shoulders as he continued to rub against the man’s massive cock. The boy could feel his small shaft straining against his briefs, already wanting to share his orgasm with someone. 

John stared deeply into Sherlock’s lagoon eyes; their foreheads were pressed together as the boy’s open mouth was pressed against the man’s lips. John roughly bucked his hips, seeking Sherlock’s erection and pushing the boy to release himself. They continued grinding against each other until Sherlock desperately took the man’s lips and sloppily kissed John. 

The man cordially flipped the boy around; pressing Sherlock’s feeble back against the roof and placing two colossal hands at either side of the boy’s head. 

“Oh, John. Pl-please faster.” Sherlock prettily wined. 

John hotly ran his tongue over the boy’s parted mouth and enjoyed the pretty sight of Sherlock chasing after his mouth. The man dove down to suck on the boy’s neck, savoring the pallid sweet skin between his teeth and making Sherlock elicit beautiful virgin moans. The boy wrapped his gangly arms over the man’s robust back and let out shameful cries next to John’s ear. 

The man growled against Sherlock’s unblemished skin and roughly thrusted one last time, causing the boy to tremble while coming. The boy let out breathy pants and reveled in the aftershocks of his orgasm, already feeling himself evaporating into air when he heard the man above him coming as well. John released Sherlock’s pale flesh and smirked at the pretty purple bruise forming on the boy’s neck. 

The man buried his face against the crook of Sherlock’s neck, taking a few seconds to regain his proper breathing when he pulled back and gazed down at the boy’s glowing flushed face. 

John dove down delicately and took hold of Sherlock’s trembling lips, delivering a soft kiss and making the boy whimper in happiness. “You okay?” 

The boy giggled cutely, enjoying the high of his orgasm and pressing the palm of his hand against the man’s chest, feeling John’s rapidly beating heart. “Yes.” 

Sherlock blushed crazily when he quietly admitted. “That was my first orgasm.” 

The man rumbled out a few chuckles. “God, you’re fucking adorable.”

**Author's Note:**

> Just a friendly reminder, this is my fic and if you don’t like the way I portray the characters, then please don’t waste your time reading and then leaving a mean comment. If what I write is not to your liking, please find another author who will satisfy your cravings. Toodles :)


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